Breaking the Ice
by BlackApology
Summary: May has left D.C. behind and is now on the run with the Winter Soldier, hiding from both what's left of HYDRA and other people who want May for her abilities. Join the two as they strive to heal each other from past pains and new threats, all while trying to figure out who they once were and have now become. - Sequel to No One -
1. New Beginnings

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize except May.**

Chapter 1

New Beginnings

(Aren't All They're Cracked Up To Be)

One of the most prominent things I remember from when I was first captured by HYDRA was confusion. I was scared, of course, but the confusion was easier to focus on than the fear.

I had woken up strapped to a chair in an empty room, facing a mirror, and I was confused. Back then I hadn't known about one-way mirrors, so when a voice spoke through the speakers I had wondered briefly if I had died and this was God's way of punishing me for letting Tom die, but after a while I realized that God probably didn't have a German accent.

"We have become aware of certain abilities that you hold, and I plan to help you realize them."

"Who are you!" I had yelled, looking up at the ceiling, in all the corners, trying to find any clue on who was holding me, who this _man_ was.

"My name is Arnim Zola, and I'm a scientist."

…

My name is May, former captive of a rogue Nazi group called HYDRA, and I'm insane. Or I must be, anyway, or there's no way I'd be in my current situation.

I was born a long time ago, in 1938, but when I was fifteen I was taken off of the streets and for years I was experimented on, and when I wasn't being kept in isolation I was kept in cryostasis, until I was able to escape back to the streets, over half a century later, and for two years I was able to survive on my own before Steve Rogers and Agent Rumlow were sent to bring me to S.H.I.E.L.D., right before it was revealed that they had been compromised.

I left with Steve and Natasha Romanoff and we set out to figure out what was going on, later figuring out that HYDRA had compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. and were planning on using Project Insight to kill millions of people, and we were able to reprogram the carriers in time to stop them from killing anyone despite the Winter Soldier – HYDRA's master assassin – trying to stop us along the way.

Once the carriers were down, I left with the Soldier so I could try to heal the damage done to him by HYDRA and help him regain his memories, in return for him protecting me from people who wanted to capture me for my healing powers.

And I was currently checking into a motel with said Soldier after having walked nearly five miles in the dark and the cold after the car he had stolen broke down on the side of the freeway in what had looked at the time to be the middle of nowhere.

We had been making good time, having traveled around four hours west before the car stopped, and after walking for about an hour longer had made it to Raleigh, North Carolina. **(Comment if you live in NC!)**

The Soldier had gone around to the back of the building, waiting near the back exit, while I had been instructed to get a two bed room since I was definitely the less suspicious of us two, even with the Soldier wearing the oversized sweater found in the trunk of the car before it had died.

I traded a few bills with the woman for a key to room 216, trying to keep all of my obvious injuries hidden – and at her odd look on one person getting two beds I clarified that I was waiting up for someone. She gave me an understanding look and I figured she probably thought I was spending the weekend with my boyfriend, or something. I decided to never mention that to the Soldier, not that I needed to; he had hardly spoken to me at all since I left with him, and I hoped it would stay that way for a long time.

"Y'all have a good night." I nodded my thanks, then snuck to the back door when she turned her attention to a basketball game playing on the old TV hung on the wall, and let the Soldier in.

"216," I said, then we went up the stairs rather than taking the elevator. It appeared that neither of us liked small spaces, and I'm not sure what his reasoning was – what treatment HYDRA had given him – but My Room, the room I was isolated in, was small, and so were elevators.

We made it to the room without incident, except that it took three swipes for the lock to finally accept the key, and the overhead light only had one working bulb of three, but that was fine. I put the key down on the bed closest to the door, claiming it as mine, but the Soldier gave me a look and I quickly moved the key over to the bed closer to the window, perching delicately as I watched the Soldier take the sweater off, revealing the leather suit underneath as well as his dangerous metal arm with a blood red star painted on.

"What?" he snapped, seeming annoyed with my stare, and I moved my head quickly, catching sight of the adjoining bathroom door.

"I'm going to take a shower." Then I stood up and quickly made my way over. The door shut but the lock didn't work. My heart fluttered slightly, but then I reasoned that he was trained better at HYDRA, so I went ahead and started up the water, letting it get warm while I undressed.

As always, I avoided looking in the mirror, but looked down at my injuries to assess their progress. They had all stopped bleeding by now, so I figured they would be fine getting wet if I was careful not to remove any scabs.

Laying a towel on the ground for when I stepped out, I got under the water and adjusted it until it wasn't too hot. True, the temperature I showered under probably seemed a bit cold to most, but I'd hardly ever had the luxury of warm water. Back when I had a family we usually couldn't afford warm water, when I was with HYDRA I hardly ever got actual showers. More often than not a bucket of cold water was shoved in with a rag to wash myself with, and the only times I was actually put under a spray with soap was when they wanted to show me off to other scientists, and on the streets I could usually get away with using someone's hose to wash myself in the late hours of the night, so the lukewarm water felt warm enough for me.

I closed my eyes and simply enjoyed the water cascading over my skin and soaking my hair, then finally reached over to the small – tiny – bottles of soap, massaging my scalp gently to get all of the blood out without disturbing the new scab, and after that cleaned all of the blood, dirt, and ash off of my body, toweling off after.

Feeling clean and refreshed, I put my clothes back on and decided that the first thing tomorrow would be buying disguises, because the two of us were screaming to everyone that we were dangerous, and when laying low standing out like that is never a good thing. I towel dried my hair quickly and stepped out while trying to comb it with my fingers.

The Soldier went to step in after me so I stepped to the side as he passed.

"Tomorrow we need to get disguises." He didn't say anything and shut the door behind him. I blinked at the door and then shrugged slightly, turning back and heading toward my bed; I'll take that for a yes. I reached the bed, moving the top covers, then putting them back as I spotted the off-colored sheets, instead settling down on top of them. Spotting the remote on the small bedside table between the beds I flipped the small TV on.

Back when I first got away from HYDRA, TV was my best source of getting back in touch with the world – of figuring out customs, do's and don't do's, what was expected of people now – and that usefulness hadn't left. The shows were ultimately useless, though. They were purely for entertainment; people don't do things like that in real life. I flipped through commercials and talk shows, taking in anything I thought could come in handy.

I frowned, confused and rather concerned, as I watched a razor commercial, watching as a woman shaved the hair off of her legs and underarms. I then raised my eyebrows. Seriously? Why? What was the use of that?

A memory surfaced of when I was young – 8 or 9 – and Prissy Lizzy was bragging at school for a while on how she had begun shaving her legs, explaining that since her daddy was so respectable she had to look like a respectable lady, too. I almost rolled my eyes even now, but realized that I was being childish.

The Soldier came back into the room, hair still dripping wet, and shot me a look.

"Girls are supposed to _shave_ now." It was my explanation on why I was looking at the TV like that, but then I remembered that I was talking to a master assassin who didn't care what I had to say, and probably didn't remember anything of his life pre-Winter Soldier, so I shut my mouth. There's also the fact that he didn't exactly know when I was born, so anything I said like that would sound like nonsense coming from me.

He stalked over to the light and flicked it off just as I turned the TV off, leaving us in pitch darkness since the drapes were closed, but I could still easily see shapes and vague details. I figured the Soldier could see even better than I could, so I laid down on my side, facing the window, and listened as the Soldier sat down on his own bed. The serum I was injected with had greatly enhanced my senses, so that they were generally stronger than others with the serum, but not my sight.

Back when I was with HYDRA they had tried to enhance my senses even more – starting with my sight – than the serum already had, but it had backfired. Instead of getting better it had gotten worse so that it was only hardly better than a normal human's. There was no doubt in my mind that the Soldier could see me better right now then I could see him.

No doubt he wouldn't lay down until he was certain I was asleep, cautious that this was a trick and I was simply doing this so I could slash his throat while his guard was down, and with that thought I forced myself to sleep faster, but sleep is not easy when you've got your back facing a master assassin, and it was a while before I slipped into a fitful sleep.


	2. An Assassin

**Artemis7448** : I know! Thanks for sticking with me so long. And remember, if there's anything you'd like to see happen in the book, don't hesitate to say something and I'll see what I can do.

 **TheMauGrimm** : I'm glad to see you like it! And I'm really happy May is coming across that way. Sometimes I'm worried I'm not getting the characters right, but I guess I'm doing fine!

 **Hajnah** : I know. I feel bad for them, too, and getting them to act like normal humans around each other is going to be difficult…

So I've been looking at the reviews to other stories, and I realized that most of them are reviews asking for more updates. I'm spoiling you guys! I don't make you wait, so you don't review. That doesn't seem very fair to me…

Anyway, I'm thinking of changing my weekly update to Saturdays – because that's most convenient with my schedule – since school officially started today. Ah! I just had a placement test and it was awful L

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but any OC's and my plot.**

Chapter 2

An Assassin

(Is Heartless)

Bucky's POV

HYDRA was against me remembering anything from my life before I was captured. Any time I showed any signs of remembering anything I'd go straight to the chair. They were careful, though, not to erase anything that was important to my job as an assassin. On the rare cases where I had to be wiped they were careful not to erase anything that my muscles would remember, or that could be easily relearned later.

They never considered that I would break free of them, though, so they were never too careful about the information they gave me, so whereas I was once a weapon they could use against anyone who opposed them, with all of the knowledge they left inside of me – who worked there, where their bases were, all of their backup plans – I was now their worst enemy.

…

I watched from the window as the girl in her black suit crossed the street to the store there, watching the doors as she walked in and waited for her to come back out.

When she did her arms were laden down with bags, but that hardly slowed her as she came back to the Motel at just the speed that it wasn't slow, but wasn't suspicious either.

I was slightly relieved, really. When I first agreed to her travelling with me I'd been worried that I'd be stuck with an idiot who didn't know how to do anything, but she had proved herself capable. Both back on the carrier and while travelling with her. I wondered briefly if she was an agent, and I figured it was probably so since she knew how to fight, stay alive, and her suit was that of an agent.

In a moment she had entered the Motel and I crossed the room to sit calmly back on my bed, trying to make it look like I hadn't been spying on her. I heard the key being swiped a few times, then there was finally a click as it was accepted and she walked in.

She set the bags on her bed immediately, not looking at me, and began organizing things in piles: her things and my things.

She moved the larger clothes over to the edge of her bed, as well as toothpaste and a toothbrush. She put two more things on top of the pile and I shot her a look.

She gave me a look of her own and pointed to her face in a silent explanation, and my flesh arm went up to feel my stubble. Which wasn't really stubble anymore. I understood, and while she continued sorting the stuff I grabbed my pile and headed to the bathroom.

I heard something flying through the air at me and whirled quickly, catching it in my metal arm. I was immediately on guard, wondering if she had tried to throw a knife at me while my back was turned, but I took a look at the bottle in my hand and relaxed. Deodorant.

I narrowed my eyes at her for throwing something at me, but she had already turned back to the piles and didn't see it, so instead I turned and began freshening up.

Back with HYDRA I didn't often have access to mirrors, so the reflection looking back at me was nearly foreign. Long hair nearly hit my shoulders and my stubble had grown long enough that it would make me look tacky. The cuts and bruises I had gotten while fighting on the helicarrier – plenty of which came from the girl in the next room – had already faded to nothing.

Once I was done with that I returned to the room, feeling odd without my suit on, and put my suit in a neat pile on my bed next to a small mountain of food. I looked over at the girl and was surprised to see her digging into her own pile of food, albeit her pile was smaller than my own.

"Breakfast," she explained. My eyebrows raised a fraction of a centimeter, surprised that she had known how much I could eat – needed to eat, really, with my fast metabolism – and my eyes narrowed in suspicion. Either she had taken a logical guess, or she somehow had gotten hold of my files, which meant she was probably associated with HYDRA in some way.

Before I could strangle her for answers she slipped into the bathroom with her own pile, and when she returned she sat down and flipped on the TV. I watched in slight fascination, hesitantly reaching toward my food, as she quickly flipped through different stations, stopping occasionally whenever something caught her eye.

We continued to eat as she flipped through the channels quickly with the occasional stop until I had finished my food, then I turned to face her.

She felt my gaze and hesitantly switched the TV off on a commercial about something or other and turned to me as well, putting down her half eaten banana.

"How will you help me get my memories back?" She looked down, lacing her fingers together, and I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"You know how I said people will be trying to get me?" I didn't do anything. Of course I remember; I don't forget things (unless I'm forced to). "They want me because I can…do stuff." I waited for elaboration, growing impatient. "I can heal things." I blinked, surprised. That wasn't what I was suspecting.

"That's why I think I can help you; maybe I can heal your mind, and that'll give you your memories back." I recovered quickly, figuring if she was lying I could just kill her.

"Maybe?" She looked at me for a second and then looked back down.

"I haven't ever tried to do something like this." That wasn't any concern of mine.

"Are there any side-affects?" She shook her head, and so I figured that I wouldn't be losing anything in trying.

"Alright." I stood up, wondering slightly what I was supposed to do. Her eyes snapped up to me, alarmed.

"Right now?" Her voice was slightly higher pitched than usual and I recognized that she was nervous. I didn't answer once again; what was the point in putting this off? And if it didn't work I would just drop her off on the side of the road, drive a ways away, then shoot her before she could let anyone know where I was.

"Alright," she echoed me, then pointed to a spot of ground in front of her, pulling her legs up underneath her. I wasn't entirely sure what she wanted, but I got the feeling I didn't like the idea. "I can't reach your head," she explained. I reasoned that she could, if she reached up on her toes, but I reluctantly knelt with my back to her, wondering if it was a requirement of her…ability…or something.

She put both of her hands on my head delicately and I twitched slightly at the contact. When she didn't do anything other than that I relaxed slightly, listening as she exhaled slowly, trying to concentrate. Nothing happened for a minute, and I had just begun wondering how I would kill her without it getting traced back to me when I felt something pop in my head, almost as if a ton of pressure had been released, and I had a moment to wonder on it when memories suddenly assaulted me.

I lurched away from the girl, and suddenly I wasn't in a motel room with someone weaker than myself; I was in a room faced with an enemy, so I lashed out.

I jumped up from my spot on the floor, launching myself on her so I was on top of her with my hands around her throat, slowly choking the life out of her. I was too out of it to realize she was hardly struggling and her eyes were screwed shut in pain. Her little hands were scrabbling at my own, so I raised my flesh one and slammed it into her face, making her stop struggling, and suddenly I wasn't in the room.

I was on the helicarrier, punching the man with the familiar face, and he said something that tugged at my mind, bringing up forgotten emotions.

"…because I'm with you til the end of the line." And suddenly I remembered, I _remembered_ saying it to a smaller version of a man, trying to get across to him how much I _cared,_ and I was back in the motel room, not facing an enemy but the girl who was trying to help me and hadn't tried to hurt me intentionally yet, and I jumped back from her, stung.

"I'm sorry," I said, so shocked I didn't even realize my own words. "I didn't mean – I don't know why –" and cut off as I realized she wasn't listening. I rushed to her side, panicked, and saw that something was wrong. Something was _really_ wrong. She lay where I had left her, except now she was curled in the fetal position, both hands clutching her head as if trying to keep it from splitting in two, and she was whimpering, groaning and moaning. She spasmed and let out a little shriek, which made her go into a coughing fit from being strangled, and that must've hurt her even more because it caused her to grit her teeth to try and stop, spasms rocking her body.

I didn't know what to do. Rarely did I ever travel with anyone, and when one got injured or ill in any way it wasn't up to me to fix them, so things to do raced through my brain.

I offered her the unfinished banana, but that didn't do anything. I flipped on the TV, turning to a random commercial as she continued to make sounds of pain and grip her head even harder as pain rocked through her, causing her body to shake, but she grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm fine," she forced out, her voice rough. "It'll get better," and she panted from the effort it took her to say it, so I slowly went over to my own bed, sitting with my legs up and my arms resting against my knees.

I shot another look at her as she fought some unknown pain, and began sifting through my mind, trying to move my attention from her.

I sifted through memories, trying to sort new ones from ones I'd already had in my head, but the longer I dwelled on them the more my head began to pound. A memory flashed across my eyelids, shooting a man mercilessly in the head in front of his wife, before shooting her as well since she was a witness. I saw a girl in a dress, and I heard my own voice asking her to dance.

After having more memories bombard me I opened my eyes, the throbbing in my head getting to the point where it actually hurt, and when they were open I saw that a good portion of the day had passed away, and that the girl was curled up against the pillows which were propped up against the headboard, facing the TV.

She didn't flip through the stations as she had before, and she hardly seemed to be focusing on the screen – an alarming glaze covering her eyes – but when I adjusted from the position I had been in for a few hours her eyes moved to me.

Her skin was pale and there were faint bruises under her eyes, but she wasn't shrieking anymore, and that was progress.

"I didn't tell you," she said, "but when I heal people I get a bit of their pain as my own." Her hands came up and she scrubbed her face with them, blinking a few times after, clearing the glaze from her gaze.

"Are you alright?" I nodded. Aside from the pounding in my head from recalling memories for so long, I didn't feel any pain. She nodded as well.

"I suspect that I was feeling the memory of your pain from the chair, and that's why it wasn't so bad." I took in her words and then my blood froze.

"How do you know about the chair?" Her eyes snapped up to meet mine, and suddenly another memory assaulted me. A girl in her late teens being half dragged from the room containing the chair, looking up at me with hopeless eyes filled with pain, and I took in a sharp breath.

"That was you." I said it low but she heard me. She didn't say anything, simply holding my gaze, and I shot up to my feet, ignoring how light headed I got at the motion. "You were with HYDRA." The accusation was clear in my voice and she immediately nodded.

"I was held by HYDRA. Not voluntarily. I escaped a couple years ago." I stayed in my position, not lowering my guard at all. I was a fool to consider trusting anyone. I shouldn't have taken her with me.

"But they experimented on me. They put me on the chair and they froze me, too. I wasn't there because I wanted to be there." I stayed still, not backing down but not attacking. I narrowed my eyes at her, looking for any sign that she was lying, but I didn't see any. Either she was good at masking emotions, or she was telling the truth.

I took a step back and she exhaled slightly, relieved. That made me realize, then, that I was still the one with the upper hand. I was bigger than her, stronger than her, and she was currently not feeling well. If she had wanted to hurt me or take me back to HYDRA, why would she do something that she knew would make her weak? Why would she try to get back the memories that HYDRA had taken away?

I sat back down on the bed and her body shuddered again, making me realize she was still in pain. A large bruise was forming on her right cheek where I had punched her, and a necklace of ugly black and blue bruises were forming around her neck, and something knocked me in the gut.

A week ago I wouldn't have recognized this feeling, but I had felt it when dragging the man out of the water, and now I had a few vague, broken memories of feeling the same emotion, and I recognized it as guilt; guilt for hurting her when she was already weak.

"I'm sorry," I said reluctantly. She took in a sharp breath, hand flying up to her neck, but she stared determinedly at the screen in front of her.

"It's my fault. I should've been more careful. I thought I could heal you all at once, and I forgot the affect it could have on you. I'm sorry." There was silence after that, both of us feeling a good dose of guilt.

"We should stay here tonight. Recover." She didn't say anything but nodded slightly in agreement. The sun was only just beginning its journey down the sky, though, and while she recovered I ignored my headache and began planning our next steps.

…

Good luck with school, guys, and don't forget to review! Since I'm back in school I'm not responsible for any weeks I forget to update, so the more you review the more likely I am to update.


	3. Mistakes

**Guest** : Thanks for reviewing, and I'm really glad you're liking this. I usually update every Monday, but I'm going to try to switch over to Saturdays because that's easier for my schedule right now. I can't guarantee that I'll post every week, or even just on Saturday, though, so keep your eyes open!

It's only a week into school, guys, and it's already scary hard. As in scary AND hard. :'( What's up with that? My first year of college was fine. It makes me wonder how next year is going to be…

Well, I've been told that it'll get better with time, and I'm hoping that now I've figured out my schedule I can settle down easier – but it's still scary hard.

Also, this is sorta important, so read this. I have a goal for this story of always keeping the review count higher than the chapter count, so right now we're good. But as soon as I have more chapters than reviews the chances of me updating that week go down majorly. Like over 50% (there's me speaking school language). So review! And any reviews on what you want to see happening in this story will be much appreciated. I'm going to make it clear right now that it's not going to be a lemon, though, so if that's what you're looking for you should go look somewhere else.

Now moving on from the ridiculously long author's note

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my OC's and my plot, unfortunately.**

Chapter 3

Mistakes

(Are For Learning)

Once I was thoroughly 'broken' HYDRA often sent me out on missions, sometimes even with the Winter Soldier, as backup in case anyone got hurt, so that I could get them back on their feet quickly. Sometimes, though, I was the only option they had for combat and I would be sent on my own assassination missions. I wasn't brainwashed, though, and I wasn't voluntarily doing the things like the other people, and so killing wasn't easy for me.

I made a mistake my first time; I left a witness. That was one of the foremost rules in HYDRA: No witnesses. So I had been punished severely as the Winter Soldier was sent to clean up my mess. He was never punished, I remember thinking bitterly when I was stuck back in My Room, nursing my wounds. He was never punished because he never made any mistakes, and there really wasn't a point to punish him; he wouldn't remember it the next time they wiped him. I very rarely witnessed him being reprimanded, and I resolved myself then. Until I escaped, I needed to stop making mistakes. I would let Them turn me into their weapon, because I had to live to tear HYDRA down some day, and I wouldn't survive that long if I kept making mistakes.

The next time I didn't make a mistake, because I learn from my mistakes. My very first mistake, though, was letting HYDRA get its hands on me in the first place, and I'd learned from that mistake, too.

…

Once my head no longer pounded I once again began eating my food – the Soldier already having finished his own – to help with the aching in my stomach caused by days of eating little, as well as hopefully help with the residue pain in my body and head.

It did help, but the pain in my head persisted. It had been a long time since I was on the machine, so even though the pain wasn't near what I had grown used to being exposed to, my resilience had faded and I had forgotten the pain that used to be such a constant in my life.

I had turned the TV off a while ago, the noise hurting my head further, and now that I could move somewhat uninhibited again I turned to the Soldier.

"We need to plan what to do next," I said, even though I knew he had likely already planned our next steps, since it's part of his job description to always be ready for everything. I just needed to be told what his plan was.

"We need to lay low," he said, and I wondered in amazement if that was all he had come up with in the hours I had been recovering, then he continued. "Staying in any place too long isn't an option, so we'll keep moving until things die down and then leave the country." Exactly the kind of plan I was expecting from him. I nodded to show my confirmation, then stood up. His eyes snapped up to me.

"I'm going for a walk," I explained at his unasked question. His eyes narrowed, so I looked at the little clock on the bedside table. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes something happened, so get out of here." His gaze searched mine for another second, face giving nothing away, then he looked back at the wall he had been staring at before. Taking that as approval, I walked out of the door, making sure the key was in my pocket.

Once I had snuck out of the back door I took a deep breath of the clear air, letting it clear some of the haze in my mind. As soon as I could think again sorrow filled my mind, taking the place of the pain, and I began walking nowhere in general, getting the immediate layout of the land around the motel, in case the Soldier and I had to take off without notice. I was aware that he had already done this, but I could waste precious moments in an escape if I didn't know the way as well.

As I walked wherever my feet took me my mind wandered. Was Steve awake yet? I knew that Sam had heard my message by now; was he mad at me? I bet he had told Natasha, too. Another pang went through my heart at the thought of them; I had just gotten comfortable with them, felt accepted, and felt like I might actually have a future with them, and now I was with an assassin who was just as out of touch with the world as I was – more than me, actually.

My hand went up to the necklace of bruises on my throat; I could have died today. I could have died, and no one but the Soldier would have known, because he'd no doubt have gotten rid of my body. Perhaps after a while people might have guessed what had happened, but for a long time the three I had left in D.C. would think I had left them without turning back, and the Soldier wouldn't have anyone to help him.

I had made a mistake, and that mistake had nearly cost my life. I had forgotten to consider what healing the Soldier's mind would do to him. I had forgotten that he had been undergoing treatments for even longer than me, though how often I was unsure, and foolishly thought I could easily heal him. I wouldn't be making that mistake again, though.

I thought back to when I had healed Natasha's bullet wound what felt like an eternity ago and how I was able to partially heal it, receding back before she had been completely healed. Maybe I could do it again with the Soldier.

Realizing that my time was almost up, I finished my walk – now with a map of the surrounding area in my head – and snuck back into the motel. Surprisingly, it only took one swipe this time to open the door, but the room was empty. I listened for a second and heard someone moving around in the bathroom. The movements were familiar in the way I had already associated with the Soldier – dark, careful; secretive – so I turned on the light and settled on the bed while I waited for the Soldier to finish so I could get ready for bed myself.

A moment later the door opened and the Soldier stepped out with his hair still dripping like the night before, and I grabbed my own pile of things, putting the brush I had bought onto his bed in a silent offer and went to the bathroom. Before shutting the door, though, I turned back with a question that had been nagging me for a while now.

"Did it work?" I asked him as he picked up the brush. His head turned partially toward me, so I elaborated. "The healing. Did you remember anything?" He didn't answer for a second, then nodded and turned away from me again. I shut the door in response. Well, at least I knew he wouldn't drop me off in a ditch somewhere, as I had offered him if my theory of being able to heal his mind had been incorrect.

As I showered, my stomach reminded me that we had only eaten one meal today, but I stubbornly reminded it that the meal I'd had was a bigger meal than I'd eaten in a long time. Normally I just looked for food all day and was able to keep somewhat full that way, but HYDRA had trained me to build my endurance. I could easily go days without food, as I knew the Soldier could, so I didn't worry about it more than that. I'd just make sure we ate more tomorrow.

I finished up and then walked out again, taking the brush from the Soldier's bed so I could brush the tangles from my own hair.

"Do you want to try again?" I asked him, wrestling with a knot in my annoyingly long hair. Something flashed across the Soldier's face quickly as I watched, disappearing as soon as it came, but I knew it was there. It took me a second to identify it, but once I had given my best guess I figured I was wrong; even though I was getting better at identifying emotions, I still wasn't very good at it.

"No," was all he said. I blinked in surprise. I waited for him to explain, but he pointedly ignored me.

"I made a mistake," I explained. "I know what I did wrong now, so I won't do it again." He didn't say anything, but his face stayed closed off and I knew he was staying with his previous statement. Guilt flared up in me, too, when I realized that I was right in my earlier guess; he did feel guilt. He felt bad for attacking me when I was trying to help, and now I felt guilty because if I had thought it through better he wouldn't be going through this.

"I'm sorry," I repeated from earlier. I took my shoes off, stuffing my socks in them viciously as I scolded myself. The light turned off and I once again turned my back to him, evening out my breaths after a while so he would go to sleep, but once sleep did reach me it was a light, fitful sleep filled with half-formed nightmares and forgotten dreams

…

I woke abruptly to a light sound, and I rolled quietly off the side of my bed to land in a crouch, waiting as still as a rock for the sound to come again. It did, but it wasn't a HYDRA agent sneaking in through the door as I had feared; it was the Soldier. He was stirring slightly in his sleep, his eyes fluttering and breath quick, and I knew he was having a nightmare. I was familiar with the symptoms, as I often suffered them myself, but I didn't know what to do from here. Do I wake him or leave him be?

I perched up on my bed again, laying back down on top of the covers, and tried to coach my mind back to sleep, but the sound of the Soldier's nightmare plagued me. If there was anyone there to witness my own nightmares, would I want them to interrupt them, or leave me be?

"Soldier," I whispered, but it did nothing. I knew from experience that waking someone from a nightmare could be disastrous, but perhaps I could get his mind onto a different thought. "Soldier," I whispered again.

A few more moments passed and his breathing eventually slowed, stilling until he was as still as the assassin I was familiar with. Once he calmed down I was able to as well, and my aware mind was able to focus on what had been bothering me all night: I had messed up, and now someone else was suffering for it. And yet, when I looked over at the calm form of the Soldier I felt that guilt fade a little; I may have made a mistake, but all I could do was learn from it for the future. The Soldier didn't want me to try to heal his mind any more, but the deal we had made was that I get protection for healing him, and I was sure that he would change his mind eventually. All I had to do in the meantime was learn from my mistakes so I don't make them again.


	4. Alone

**Guest:** (I got two guest reviews, so I'm just going to answer you both). Thank you for reading my stories! It makes me very happy that people are actually liking my story and May, and if there's anything you'd like to see happen make sure to tell me.

I've been doing a lot of research on North Carolina so that I can get all of the facts straight, and I'm actually pleasantly surprised by what I've found. I'm seriously considering moving there some day.

Also, I'm posting early this week because I'm going on a family trip tomorrow and I won't have internet, so I figured I'd just treat you. Also, there's another holiday coming up (happy Labor Day!) so I have another deal for you.

 **Important! – Read This – Don't Skip – You'll Regret It!**

If by Wednesday, September 7th, I have a total of 12 reviews (that's only 5 more) I will give you the next chapter early. So review!

 **Disclaimer: I only own my OC's and my plot.**

Chapter 4

Alone

(But Needed)

It didn't take long for Zola to deem my young age for the reason my ability wasn't fully developed. He acted as if he had seen the scenario many times before, and I wondered just how many people had suffered before me. After they had withdrawn an insane amount of blood from me they had put me in My Room for the first time. I'd had just a second to look around in the light cast in through the open door – bed, bucket, and lots of metal – before the door was shut, casting me in complete darkness. I remember so much confusion from my first days in there. I was scared, too, after a few days without anyone coming to get me, the guards hardly talking to me through the door.

I was relieved – happy, even – when they finally came in to get me, but it was only for more experiments. After a while they began taking me out for training as well so I didn't waste away in My Room, and after a while I wasn't sure whether I preferred being in My Room or on the metal table with knives and needles coming toward me, or in the training room where I was forced to heal injuries or train until I couldn't feel my limbs anymore, and it was about then that I realized I wouldn't get any help. I wouldn't be rescued like the damsel in distress in the stories I read Little Tommy; Captain America wouldn't come crashing through the door to save me, because he was dead. I realized that I was well and truly alone.

…

In the morning we left the motel and took a bus to the other side of the city. Even though we were both skittish around all of the strangers, it was the obvious choice if we didn't want to get into the car of a complete stranger who could be part of any organization targeting us.

The people were friendly, though, and I figured it was just a North Carolina thing. The man sitting across from me was sipping from a glass coke bottle with what looked like a layer of peanuts floating on the top as he stared at the Soldier's standing form. Even in disguise the Soldier looked very dark and impending, and that could easily be proven by the people edging farther away from him as he glared holes through the windshield.

The next motel we found was just as run down as the last one, and once again I got the bed next to the window. I didn't mind so much this time, though, since this one didn't face another city block but a lush green landscape. If I hadn't been taken from my own time and brought to this time, I'd never have seen any of the amazing places I'd run across recently; there were no scenes like this where I came from.

I spotted a trail cutting through the green and an idea formed in my head; the muscles in my body aching with neglect from not being used in a few days now.

"I'm going to jog in the morning," I informed the Soldier. I'd like to do more – use more than just those few muscles in my body – but I was still healing and didn't want to strain my injuries before they were ready to be used like that again. But if I was already feeling antsy, chances are the Soldier was, too. "Maybe if we get up early you can work out as well." I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he contemplated his answer – weighing the pros and cons – and he eventually nodded. Oddly, I found myself slightly relieved; the threat of someone finding me to experiment on me – whether HYDRA or not – was very real, and the chances of anyone getting me greatly diminished when in the Soldier's company.

"I'll set the alarm for four?" He didn't answer and so I took that as consent.

By now we had set into a routine, of sorts: I'd get ready for bed before he did, then while he did I'd watch TV before we fell asleep – me having to fall asleep before he would. I found comfort in the constant that had taken place in my very unstable life right now, and I wondered if working out in the morning could become another part of our routine, and maybe even healing sessions once he's forgiven me for the mistake I had made earlier.

With this in mind, I grabbed my newly purchased sweats and T-shirt pajamas and a shaver. I'd had an odd conversation with an odd woman on the bus earlier on the best ways to shave your legs, and I did so now with the new information I had stored away.

When the Soldier went in I set the alarm and then turned on the TV and watched for new information once again. I felt odd after shaving, but rather modern, so I ignored it and focused on the screen in front of me and the shower running in the next room.

I could get used to this, I realized. Perhaps not the master assassin part of things, but traveling with someone; building a routine with them, getting used to their presence. Back during my time women usually married at twenty, and I was no doubt past that age by now (though it was hard to know, considering my history). Mother would be ashamed if she knew I hadn't even been courted yet by this age.

I pushed thoughts of home from my head and focused on the commercials again, trying to take in the information given, but everything went right through me as I blocked the homesickness that gnawed at something near my stomach.

Perhaps I'd never have a constant person in my life. I'd lost my whole family, then I lost all the people in my time, then I lost the friends I'd only just made. Perhaps I'm just always going to be alone, and I should just get used to it already.

The Soldier came out and I shut the TV off before laying on my side facing the window on autopilot and I happily let sleep take me.

…

My eyes snapped open to a dull beeping and I turned over quickly to slap my hand on it, turning it off. I spotted the form of the Soldier crouched on his bed, having been jerked harshly from sleep.

"It's just the alarm," I assured him, then lifted myself from the bed and stretched life back into my limbs. Once we were both ready to head out we made our way to the park in the darkness of morning, no one but us around. It was refreshing, not having to worry about everyone around us and whether or not they knew who we were. I had seen plenty of the news reports on what had happened in D.C., and thanks to Natasha there were plenty of pictures floating around of the Soldier, as she had leaked all of SHIELD and HYDRA's files, so it wouldn't be hard for anyone to spot him if they really looked.

I had no doubt that my pictures were easy to find as well, but that's only if people knew what to look for, so I wasn't very worried about strangers recognizing me, because most people don't know I exist.

The Soldier headed to a tree and pulled out a dagger from the suit he had put back on for training. I figured he was smart enough that I didn't have to tell him not to use any guns, so I left him and began doing stretches before starting my jog, gradually getting faster until I was at a sprint. The constant pound of my feet against the gravel filled my head until there was nothing else, and I lost myself to the feel of the wind on my face, the pounding of my feet, and my hair thumping against my back in its pony tail, and I watched as the sun came up as I ran the long trail, circling the Soldier.

Whenever I passed him I watched him train, his moves familiar to me – both from training with him and from learning the moves myself. He fought invisible enemies and slashed at a tree as if it were a formidable foe, and before I knew it the sun had risen enough that others began to join us, so I stopped once I had reached the Soldier and we headed back, him sticking his daggers back into his suit discreetly and having put on a light sweater to hide the most alarming parts of him from peering eyes.

Neither of us had sweated enough to warrant a shower, so I simply sat down on my bed with nothing to do. TV may be informative, but that doesn't mean it's something I like to do all the time.

"I'm going to take a walk," I told him, standing up. I was nicely exercised, but I didn't have the layout of the land. "If I'm not back in twenty, get out of here," I repeated from the other night, then walked out of the door.

Nearby was the little second-hand store we had stopped at earlier to expand our wardrobe, and aside from that I found a small fruits and vegetable store, which would definitely come in handy later. I walked quickly so I wouldn't needlessly worry the Soldier, making sure to be at the room before my time was up. Once there I faced the topic I had avoided for a day now.

"We should try again." I didn't need to say what I was talking about, and that meant the Soldier had been thinking about it, too, and his head shook no as I had suspected it would.

"It was our deal. I heal you for protection. If I don't hold up my part of the deal, who's to say you'll hold up yours?" He shot a look at me at the accusation, then looked away.

"I don't want healed." I frowned, concerned that what memories he had seen of his old life hadn't been pleasant ones. But they can't all be bad.

"Then I may as well leave." I let that hang in the air. I knew it wasn't all that threatening for the Soldier, and that sentence probably affected me more than it did him. I'd have to go back to Steve in D.C. and hope he forgave me, or perhaps just somehow integrate myself back into the life I had grown accustomed to on the streets. The Soldier may never regain his memories, but perhaps they would come back on their own with enough time. He had remembered Steve back when he first saw him at the bridge, after all. Maybe he didn't even need me.

"You made a mistake," his deep voice interrupted my thoughts. "And you know how to fix it." I nodded in confirmation; I had a good theory on how to not make the mistake again. He stood up, surprising me.

"If it doesn't work this time, you'll leave." And it's likely I wouldn't survive, too. I nodded, remembering what exactly I had done with Natasha. No doubt it would be harder to control and recede before the job was done since the Soldier's wound was worse than Natasha's bullet wound, but I was sure I could do it. I didn't survive HYDRA just to be killed by their ex-asset.

"It'll work." I pulled my legs up beneath me just as I had before and he took his place in front of me. I put my hands on either side of his head, then hesitated before beginning the process.

"I'm going to hurt again afterward, but it's okay. I'm used to dealing with pain on my own, so you can just ignore me." Then I focused on his mind, searching it until I found the scars of past pain, then focused on taking the damage from him to myself, and the pain was immediate.

I remembered the first session – it's when I had gotten through what I could only describe as a barrier of pain that things had gotten bad and he had attacked me. So I just had to stop before breaking through, leaving the barrier just thin enough for him to be able to break it himself, only as fast as he could handle it.

Amid trying to heal him as slowly as I could so that I could withdraw when I needed to, I had to force myself from yanking my hands from his head and grabbing my own; having to stop myself from stopping the pain that slowly burned my mind as I slowly healed his.

Once I felt the barrier getting thin I quickly receded from his mind, fighting my ability and its need to complete the job, and the headache from keeping such tight control over it joined the throb caused by the memory of the chair, joined even further by the pain of my own memories

I pulled away from him, curling up on the bed and trying to control my breathing. Whimpers escaped me despite my efforts, and in my moment of weakness I found myself dreading the sessions that would come after this. The first time I was subjected to this pain I didn't have a choice about it, now here I was subjecting myself to it willingly. True, the pain wasn't so potent as it was when I was restrained and forced to experience it, and this pain was significantly less than that, but the fact that I had a choice about this added to the pain more than anything, knowing I could just walk away from it. But really, I suppose I was currently more restrained than ever, because I needed to help him.

I needed to help him because Steve needed his best friend back, I needed to because the Soldier didn't have anyone else to help him, and I needed to help him for myself, too. I needed to help him because the ache in his mind called to my ability for help, and because nobody was there to help me when I needed help, either.

Then, as I writhed in the bed with the memory of old pain, holding my head together from splitting in half, I made up my mind: no matter how much it hurt me to heal him, I would do it.

I would help him because he needed help, and that's enough of a reason.

…

Have a good Labor Day weekend. Sleep lots and forget about homework. I mean be good students! And don't forget to review so you can get the next chapter sooner.


	5. Progress

**Zelda4439** and **Astral Kai:** Alright, so I've gotten a couple questions on May's ability, and I'm really glad you guys asked! I've actually been having a really hard time integrating details on May's ability into the story, and part of the reason for that has to do with how little about it she knows herself. I hope I've made it clear by now how little the scientists at HYDRA communicated with her, so everything they found out about her through experiments was never shared with her; she simply knew what she herself noticed (can't heal certain things, some things hurt her more than others, etc.,). And, yes, I understand that the two of them are rather apathetic at the moment, but that's exactly how I'm trying to portray them so when they start changing it's more apparent and more dramatic of a change. Just bear with me! Things get better! As for how May healing Bucky's mind – I must sidetrack a little here – I've read a lot of Bucky/OC fics and in all of them whenever Bucky starts remembering anything it hurts him. So I'm very interested in the brain and my idea for _why_ it hurts him is because the machine has blocked those neurological pathways, meaning he's trying to pretty much force his brain to reform. So taking that, I'm integrating it into my own story by May _healing_ those pathways – giving him access to the part of his brain with the memories in it – and thus, no pain. As for May's pain, I didn't really cover it very much in No One, because I was still trying to establish who she is, so I'm hoping this story with cover it a bit more. In No One, though, I mentioned quite a few times the 'memory' of pain she feels whenever healing. So again I must sidetrack: I firmly believe that any superpower or ability of any sort must come with a downside. It's just how I see it. And so May's ability is healing, and her downside is that she feels a bit of the person's current – or past – pain herself. So like when she healed the gash in her mother's arm, the gash was pretty deep. May herself felt only a bit of the pain from the gash, not the full pain. Does that make sense? Tell me if it doesn't. And so in healing Bucky's mind from the chair she's feeling a bit of Bucky's past pain in herself. Okay, now I'm going to separate replies.

 **Zelda4439:** I hope that cleared some things up for you, and things should be getting more interesting from here; I just wanted to set a solid base so when we get to the end of this story we can come back here and compare who they _used_ to be with who they will have turned into. I'm hoping the following chapter will clear things up even further, too. Thank you for posting! Yours was my very first informative review and I appreciate it a lot. If there's anything else, don't hesitate to post!

 **Astral Kai:** I'm really glad to hear how much you're liking my stories, and this is by far the longest post I've gotten. Yes! You just got tons of brownie points! Honestly, you're the reason I'm posting early this week even though the review requirement wasn't hit. So this is definitely a Bucky/OC fic, but I'm not planning on making it one of the gushy ones; they're still figuring themselves out, they don't really need to try and be in a relationship on top of that. But things do get closer between the two. So I'm hoping things were cleared up on what went on with the healing session, but if you still have questions make sure to ask! Chances are you're not the only one wondering, but so far you and Zelda4439 have been the only ones brave enough to say anything. As for what Bucky had seen in his memories I was intentionally unclear about that. The feeling I'm trying to get across is a sense of chaos, almost. (There's a better word for it but I can't remember it right now). To clear it up a bit, though, Bucky was just assaulted with a bunch of memories he didn't know he had, and a lot of his most recent memories are pretty bad, so it makes sense (to me) that he would react to me. Then he switches to his fight with Steve on the helicarrier and snaps out of it. Does that make any more sense? I also like how Sam and May's relationship is turning out. Brother and sister is exactly how I see them, and I look forward to their reunion : ) May continues to remember things as well, but not to such an extent. I do plan on having her remember her original name, but I'm not sure if she'll go by it. With how she regards names (one for each stage of her life) I think she might be ready to simply be May. But we'll see. As for Black Ice… Yes, it's still a work in progress. I've got an outline of it sitting on my desk, but I'm just swamped with school and inspiration hasn't hit me yet. We'll see where I get with that (though you mentioning it will probably inspire me to at least look at it again.) And I like the sound of you reviewing more. I like your reviews so far! Any reviews are good. Actually I can't even see all of your review yet (since you're a Guest Reviewer part of it appears in my email first) and won't be able to see it for a few more days (when it appears on the review list). Thanks so much for your review!

You guys may have noticed that I posted early even though you didn't meet my requirements. You guys have Astral Kai to thank for that. I wasn't going to post, but the amazing length of Astral Kai's post made me decide to cut you guys some slack (though you were seriously only two reviews away. Come on!) You may also have noticed that this authors note is really long. So in the above three answers I explained a lot about what happened in chapter three with the healing session. I also explained some about May's abilities, and even gave some hints to what goes on in the future with this. So if you're interested in any of those things you should read it.

Just to be clear, I plan on doing in my weekly posting as well as this, but as with always, we'll see if I actually get to it. Reviews are greatly appreciated always, so please review!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my plot and OC's.**

Chapter 5

Progress

(Means A Step In The Right Direction)

After I escaped from HYDRA things were hard. It had been cold – really cold – where I had been being kept, and I liked to muse that I was just as cold as that environment. HYDRA had turned me into a weapon, and I couldn't remember how to be a person anymore.

Once I reached civilization I began watching others, trying to match my behavior with theirs; I tried to make myself stop seeing a dozen ways to kill someone before they could retaliate, and eventually I succeeded. It was hard to change back to the person I had been before being taken by HYDRA, and I eventually found that I could never be her again. I also found, though, that I was taking steps in the right direction, and that's progress.

...

It was decided that we would only do one healing session each week, because after trying to do two nights in a row my mind simply couldn't handle any more, and that schedule was fine for both of us. It gave me time to heal, and him time to break through what I left of the barrier to reach his memories.

Currently, though, it was Wednesday and we had just relocated once again. Now we were walking through a grocery store. It was the first time that the Soldier had come out into public since we had left D.C., and even though we both thought it was a bad idea for him to come out so soon after the information dump, the person at the front desk was beginning to get suspicious when I was the only one leaving the room (that she saw, anyway) so we had to show her that I had not murdered the Soldier, or something –imagine that! – plus, the Soldier didn't like a lot of the foods I was buying. He was a surprisingly picky eater. I guess that's what happens when you're kept on HYDRA's strict diet, though. I remember when I first escaped that everything was either too sweet or too greasy; it took a while to get used to things.

As it was, most of the things in the cart were fruits and vegetables, as well as some other things like yogurt and some meat, and like always there was enough to feed a large family. Or two serum-enhanced people. It's a good thing I don't eat as much as he does, or the Soldier's gradually dwindling stash of money would be disappearing a lot quicker.

The two of us were in our disguises, but that didn't stop the Soldier from looking any less scary. He was wearing a dark sweater and jeans, face freshly shaved and a hat shoved on his head, and the result was a handsome man with a terrifying glare. The few women we crossed couldn't seem to decide whether to give him their number or run away screaming, something I found highly amusing and he found very annoying.

When we finished scouring the store we checked out, handing a large chunk of the money to the woman at the check-out, but when I went to grab a few of the plastic bags the Soldier shouldered past me and grabbed them all himself. I blinked in surprise as I followed after him. The many bags weren't heavy for him in the slightest, but I could've easily grabbed some myself to make things fair. My head cocked very slightly to the side as I stared at the back I was following; this was his way of being chivalrous, I realized in surprise. Apparently the healing sessions were doing more for him than I had previously thought.

I looked down and a small smile tugged at the edges of my lips before I let it grow; my efforts were finally showing to be fruitful after just over a month.

As time continued to pass we continued to relocate, and the money continued to dwindle. We stuck by our routine, as well as the added healing sessions and working out in the morning before anyone was out. Once all of my injuries were healed enough I began to train with the Soldier, spurring memories in the both of us that weren't at all pleasant, because the only time we had ever seen each other with HYDRA was either training, or going to or from the machine and the cryofreeze tubes. Right now, though, any memories that the Soldier regained was progress, so I wasn't going to complain.

Once we neared two months on the run, though, the money began getting alarmingly low, and we were currently figuring out what to do now. The Soldier's idea was stealing money, of course. I'd had longer to build a conscience, though, and I was leaving that as the last option.

We sat in silence and an idea began to form in my mind; an idea I knew he wouldn't like.

"It's been two months since D.C.," I brought up. He stared at me in response, so I plowed on. "And your picture hardly comes up on the news anymore. Mine doesn't at all." Still silence. "So maybe you should put a portion of the money toward a small apartment and one of us can get a job." It seemed very ridiculously like something someone would do in a novel – a few of which I'd read lately – and just like TV shows I knew that people don't usually do the things that are written in novels. That didn't stop me from mentioning it, though.

He immediately shook his head no, but I knew it was the only option other than stealing from everyone we passed, and I had just gotten past that stage in my life; I stole from everyone when I was No One. I'm May now, and I make a point of trying to be everything that HYDRA taught me not to be, and that meant I was kind and sympathetic now. I wasn't going to steal from anyone unless I was certain there were no other options.

"There are no other options," I said, shooting him a look when he opened his mouth, no doubt to mention stealing again. "Except stealing which I refuse to do unless we've tried all other options and they don't work. So let's try it, and if it doesn't work we can figure something else out." He still didn't say anything, but his dark expression made it clear on what his answer was.

"Just think about it, alright?" Silence. I turned my back to him in annoyance and threw the blankets over myself, waiting for him to turn the lights off. Even though I knew that HYDRA had trained him to be an assassin, and he was apparently once good enough of a person to be Steve's best friend, the silence got old occasionally. I'd had enough silence in my life to last me an eternity, and I found myself missing Sam's humor and Steve's jealousy-invoking inspirational speeches. I missed the noise of people conversing in the way I had forgotten how to.

The light stayed on for another minute and I grew concerned, annoyance flying away as soon as it appeared, so I turned to look at the Soldier to make sure everything was okay. My eyes met his, though, as he had stayed where he was, staring at the back of my head with his empty eyes. A chill ran down my spine as I remembered that not long ago he and I had been fighting to kill each other, and he was still the stronger of us two; he could easily overpower me and end my life without a second's warning.

The moment passed quickly, then something passed through his empty eyes, reminding me that he hardly ever attacked me – only when spurred on my memories that one time while healing him and a few times while training when things had gotten too intense.

"Fine," he said, forcing it out as if the word tasted bad in his mouth. I blinked in surprise, wondering if he had just agreed to my plan. "But if it doesn't work we're going with my plan." I nodded my agreement, then watched as he stood up and stalked over to the light to shut it off.

In the dark I watched his form make its way back toward his bed, then lay down with his back toward me as I always did – with my back toward him.

"Thanks." He didn't say anything, but I didn't expect him to. I watched his shoulders tense a bit more as my own relaxed. He didn't want to go with my plan – that much was obvious – but he was going with it anyway, and I was grateful.

That night I slept with my back to the window.


	6. A Kind Assassin

**Mayoslack** : Yes, it's about time. Sorry the process has been a little slow, but from now on things should start looking up.

Did the whole explanation in the last chapter make sense? It was a little long… Okay, I'll make this easy for you. Don't review if it made sense. Review any questions you still have. There! Now that means most of you understand what's going on *Cue Evil Laugh*.

Anyway, something was brought up, and I realized I haven't been very fair to you guys. I haven't posted anything for Black Ice after telling you I would be starting on it soon. So I have a question for you, and I'd really appreciate it if at least one of you answer.

So if I do take up Black Ice, two stories and school is too much for me to juggle, so I'd be alternating weeks between the two. Otherwise I can just stick with Breaking the Ice during the semester, and add Black Ice during winter vacation. Which sounds best? Make sure to answer, or I'll decide for you. *Final Evil Laugh*

 **Disclaimer: I only own my plot and any OC's, believe it or not.**

Chapter 6

A Kind Assassin

(And Hurt Friends)

If I try really hard I can remember a bit of how it is to be insane. The chair was good at erasing those memories to return me to my normal mind frame, but sometimes something would trigger a memory of those times – a smell, a thought, a sound – and the feeling was unpleasant, so I don't usually try to remember. Sometimes I do, though, to remember that it wasn't all just a figment of my imagination.

There were voices, voices that questioned what I was doing, and occasionally I realized that those voices were mine. There were so many of my own voices I could hardly hear anyone else's. Sometimes I wondered if the voices were the real things and everything else was fake.

Other times there was nothing. No matter how much I tried to think about something – anything – I couldn't. I'd forget what I was even trying to do in the first place; because there was just so much to think about, yet so little to think about, that I just decided not to think.

It was in these times I forgot how a conversation went; I forgot the words used so commonly in every day life. And I forgot why company was even needed; I forgot what it meant to be comforted and touched kindly. I forgot why I was even supposed to remember those things, because there was nothing but the darkness and the conflicts in my mind.

…

That night I had nightmares. I'm sure the Soldier did, too, as he had persistently had them ever since the healing sessions began. Perhaps since even before then. And I'd been suffering from nightmares, too. After spending so many years ignored, though, both with HYDRA and on my own on the streets, I never expected anyone to comfort me quietly like I tried to do with the Soldier. So I was surprised when I woke up in the early hours of the morning covered in cold sweat and shivering in fright, only to meet the eyes of the Soldier staring back at me from his own bed.

I stared back at him, trying to slow my heart rate as I pushed the lingering fear from my mind. Even after my breathing returned back to normal and I had relaxed back into the mattress he continued to stare at me in a silent question.

"They did bad things to me," I finally relented. "I know they did bad things to you, too, so I really don't have anything to complain about." His gaze still didn't waver, and I wondered briefly if he slept with his eyes open and I was talking to his unconscious form, but then he blinked, so instead I wondered if he actually wondered on what I was having a nightmare about.

"I was captured by them when I was young," I explained. "So they kept me on my own for large amounts of time. I dreamed I was back in that room, and that I had just made up the past couple of years." I shut my eyes and shuddered, feeling the forgotten insanity tickle the back of my mind. "It was terrifying."

The details had been vivid – the pitch darkness with the rectangular slot of light that only showed when I was getting a meal, the roughness of the small blanket on my small bed, the cold metal that made up the walls and chilled my bare feet. I had truly believed I was back there, and that all I had destined for me was the endless darkness, experiments, the pain of the machine, and the time spent in cryo, and the thought that the freedom I had so enjoyed for such a short time had been only a figment of my broken imagination tore me up inside.

I tried to force myself back to sleep as the pillow beneath my head soaked up the single tear that leaked down from my eye.

The gleaming eyes of the Soldier gazed on with his enhanced eyesight and caught sight of the liquid crystal as it shone for less than a second, and he felt sympathy for the briefest of moments for the girl he hardly knew.

…

A few days later we were climbing the stairs of an old apartment building that wasn't far from a few stores I could apply for jobs at. Of course there was the problem that I had absolutely no idea how to apply for a job, but there was a library nearby with a couple computers in it that I could use to figure it out.

Once we had both unpacked our meager belongings into the small apartment that already had a bit of furnishing I left the Soldier sulking in the apartment – still angry at going with my idea rather than his own – for the library to begin my research.

"I'll be back in an hour," I told him, then shut the door. Using the map in my head I made my way over to the library, which didn't take more than ten minutes, which meant I had forty minutes there, and I planned to make the most of it.

While with HYDRA I was taught the basics of how technology works, and by basics I mean I could easily hack most things, find anything I needed to, get past any barrier. Ultimately, it was easy to find out how to get a job. I found there were a few complications that I couldn't get past, though. Like how I didn't have an I.D. of any sort, and some managers grow suspicious about that.

Even if I did have an I.D., though, I wouldn't be giving it around here, so I currently needed a false I.D. This would've proven to be a problem eventually, but I kind of hoped it wasn't right now. If anyone grew to be suspicious about me after I had just persuaded the Soldier to settle down in an apartment we would immediately switch to his plan. So I had to take drastic measures.

With the clock ticking and my mind whirling, I made my way to the landline set in the back wall. Finally making up my mind, I quickly dialed in the number I had memorized the first time I had dialed it. It was still relatively early in the morning, so I hoped he would answer, and he did.

"Sam," I said. There was silence on the other end, but I knew he was there. Finally, he said something.

"May." It was laced with betrayal, and my heart fell.

"How is he?"

"Hurt. Over losing both a best friend and an ally in one go." My heart sank even further, if that's possible. His voice got a bit softer, but not much. "You hurt him May."

"I didn't mean to."

"Well you did." We were quiet for a moment, then I hesitantly broke it.

"I need a favor." More silence. "I need Natasha's number."

"You're not going to tell me why." It wasn't a question, so I didn't bother answering.

"But Sam, don't tell Steve I called." He gave me the number with clear disdain, then hung up.

I committed the number to memory, trying to ignore the gross hurt feeling inside me, located somewhere near my heart, then dialed that number next. She answered after the first ring.

"Natasha, I need help."

"Well hello to you, too. How's your time as a renegade?" I wasn't entirely sure what that was, so I didn't say anything.

"Joking, joking. What do you need?"

"A fake I.D. I'm trying to get a job." I'm not entirely sure why I told her that last bit, but hearing her after living with a silent assassin for a couple months arose something in me that had begun to grow when I talked with Sam. We discussed a few things that she would need to know for the I.D. – age, height, false name.

"Alright. When and where?" Her voice was calm; normal, but I knew what she was doing. And we both knew there wasn't any way I could escape it if I wanted the I.D.

"I need it as soon as possible." Here I hesitated. "I'll give you an address, but I won't be there." I hesitated again. "Don't tell Sam or Steve about this, okay? We never talked."

"Alright." I gave her the address of the old couple's house who lived next to the apartment building.

"I'll have it there in two days." Before I could wonder on how quick that was I panicked because she was about to hang up.

"Natasha, wait!" There was more silence, but the line didn't go dead so I continued. "I had to go, Natasha." I waited with bated breath to see how she had reacted to my decision. I already knew how Sam and Steve had taken it, but what about Natasha?

I could almost see her little smirk-smile as she answered, and I released my breath quickly.

"I know, kid. Sometimes people need to show a bit of independence." My own smile tugged at my lips, but grew serious as she continued.

"We all have things that we need to do, and that includes you. Just don't get killed while you're at it." I let out a breath laugh, fighting the lump in my throat as relief rushed through me at her acceptance.

"Thanks Natasha."


	7. One Step Back

**Astral Kai** : Authors love long reviews (or at least I do). And yes, May only feels a fraction of the pain. It does seem a little bad, and I'm worried that I've made it a bit too bad, but this plays a large part in bringing May and Bucky closer together, so I'm going to leave it that way. And I don't know if you've ever had a migraine before, but it's like a _really_ awful headache, and you can't function at all that day. I imagine the pain May feels is worse than a migraine, because the chair was pretty much melting Bucky's brain. I can't imagine even a portion of that would feel nice. May cannot self-heal, and if you'd like more information on that, feel free to ask. I'm sure it'll come up eventually, but then again, maybe not. Her enhancement does allow her quicker healing, and that's why she recovers faster from things than normal humans. Where Sam and Steve are concerned, I had to debate a lot about their reactions. I finally settled on Steve feeling a bit betrayed and hurt over May because he knows she's over there helping his best friend instead of Steve himself helping Bucky – who is his best friend. I'm not so sure about Sam, but it's a mixture between being hurt for her leaving so quickly and also probably betrayed because she hurt Steve so easily as well. I don't know. I'll explore that in greater depth in Black Ice. And yeah, I had Natasha take Sam's role for a bit; but I still plan on having the brother relationship between May and Sam once things have smoothed over. I think I'm addicted to Breaking The Ice, too! I often find myself ignoring the lecture and planning out what'll happen next! (And brownie points are kind of like points given to people whenever they make people happy, so anything you request to happen in the story is more likely to happen, or like with last week, when the review requirement isn't met I'll post anyway.)

 **JLBriggs** : I'm glad you're liking my stories! And yes, I've already decided on Emma/Emilia being her original name, and yes Irene is a very nice name, thanks for the input! (Though whenever I hear Irene I think of Sherlock…) I can't believe you made an account just so you can review! That's so awesome! And yes, it's a really big bummer how many authors either hardly post or just disappear. (Sometimes I secretly wonder if they've just died and we don't know about it). As for fanfic recommendations…yes, yes I do. I myself usually aim for complete fanfics with really good story lines and minimal grammatical issues, but I have a few HP as well as Bucky & Loki favorites (those two are my favorite as well). You can always go ahead and browse my favorite stories list, but off of the top of my head "The Darkness Within" is definitely my favorite HP fanfic. There are three parts, and it's a little slow at first, but it really gets amazing fast (the author is currently rewriting the first book, and that one's faster, but it's not finished yet). "Saving Grace" is a really sweet story with Loki in it. It has a few darker undertones, but it's worth it. "Blasphemy" focuses a lot on Bucky's PTSD, and I like it a lot. It's one of the stories I go back to and skim occasionally. "The Original Three" is also really good. I can't say it's my favorite, because it's hard for me to pick favorites, but it's pretty high up on my list. The story's summary explains it well, so if you're interested just take a look. I like the characters a lot, and the storyline is great. So that's what was at the top of my head, but I'm sure there's more, so feel free to check out my profile page. Finally, Bucky already remembers his name (Steve told him on the helicarrier) and he's probably regained a few memories of people calling him by his name. So he already remembers his name, and going off of CA:Civil War, he'll probably have her call him Bucky. Because when he was captured and interrogated he immediately answered that his name was Bucky (which I found so adorably cute and heartbreaking), as well as Steve calling him Bucky. By now it probably feels more like his name than James Buchanan Barnes.

Thanks for all of the reviews you guys! I just saw them all yesterday, and I couldn't stop smiling all day. And I'm pretty sure I did a weird happy dance. I like how you both posted multiple times to give more thoughts, because the more reviews the happier I am, especially with informative reviews like all of them were this week. So I've finally figured out my schedule and things are finally beginning to calm down again. Yay. (For a while I seriously wondered if my life would ever become normal again).

So I've had two requests to stick with Breaking The Ice and not and Black Ice to the mix, so that's what I'm going to do. I'm really happy with that answer, actually, because last week I was internally freaking out as I tried to fit another story into my schedule.

Glad that's figured out! And all the reviews this week was great, so make sure to review!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my plot and any OC's.**

Chapter 7

One Step Back

(Two Steps Forward)

When you're not entirely sure who you are, nor who you're trying to be, it's hard to determine whether you're progressing or not. It was like that when I escaped HYDRA; I didn't know exactly who I wanted to be since I didn't remember much about who I used to be, but I definitely knew I didn't want to be who HYDRA made me. So instead of counting progress, I began determining things by steps: if I didn't steal that day I had taken a step in the right direction. If I hurt someone when I wasn't entirely sure I was being threatened, I had taken a step in the wrong direction. Using that method I was soon able to see the person I wanted to be: everything HYDRA didn't want me to be. And I've continued to slowly succeed even now.

…

"The hot water doesn't work." The gruff voice came from the kitchen and I calmly turned a page in the book I was borrowing from the library.

"You have to wait a while." I continued to read while I waited for the next complaint, and I wasn't disappointed. A few creaks sounded from his direction.

"The cupboards creak."

"So do the doors." I heard him stalking towards me, so I put the bookmark in and shut the book, putting it down when he was in front of me. Before he could say anything, I opened my mouth first. "Get used to it."

It was the day after we had gotten to the apartment and all the Soldier had done since I got back from the library yesterday was find and point out every flaw he could find. It was about time for him to stop.

"I don't like it."

"Yes, that's clear." He glowered down at me, so I stood up as well, glaring right back up at him. "But what would you rather do? Right now we have an apartment and I'm getting a job to pay for it. You would rather steal from people. But how would we go about doing that? These days people carry cards, not cash, and if we steal those cards they can be canceled easily. We can't rob from stores or banks because that would draw too much attention from people we don't want to notice us, so we'd be stuck taking the bit of cash people actually carry, and with both of us having such a quick metabolism, any money we take will go toward our food, if it's even enough for that. What after that? Where will we sleep without drawing too much attention? What about disguises and anything else we might need? Yours is a temporary plan, and I would expect more from a trained assassin. You're acting on the instincts HYDRA gave you, not with your brain."

His glower had faded and replaced with almost a shocked look, but there wasn't any hidden desire to kill me, so I dared to continue.

"So get used to it." The stare stayed for a moment longer, then the glower returned full force and I remembered who it was that I was reprimanding. I looked down as he moved, wondering if today was going to be my last day, but all he did was grab his sweater and shove it on as he left the apartment.

I let out a breath, wondering what I had just done, and the look he had given made me wonder if he would even come back. Worry rose up in me, as well as guilt for speaking at him like that. Sure, what I had said was all true, but I needed to remember to take his feelings into account, too. It was hard for me, though; I was still learning how to figure out my own feelings, how was I supposed to figure out what others are feeling as well? And it's even harder with the Soldier because he shows fewer outward signs than normal people, so there was even less for me to go off of.

To distract myself from my worry I went to the library and did research on the places looking to hire close to the apartment building. After some digging I found the better paying ones, then with the help of the ever helpful internet I managed to send a job application to them. There were three – a neighborhood market, a plant nursery, and an expensive restaurant, all of which had many good reviews on their managers, hours, and money given. Although I didn't completely understand what was being said, I figured it couldn't be anything bad if good things were being said by so many.

After that I printed the job applications I had filled out and gone to the stores myself. Hopefully both means of delivery would cause the manager to look at my form before the others, prompting them to hire me.

Of course most everything on the list was a lie or a half truth. I'd used the false name Natasha had come up with yesterday – Amber Jeanne Webb – as well as anything else I needed to sound good enough for the job. There was also the problem of giving the manager a way to contact me – as I didn't have a cell phone, a landline, or an email – so also with the internet's help I created an email and was able to write that down.

Writing down an email was oddly satisfying. Even though I didn't have any contacts or anything, and it really wasn't all that special, it made me feel more like an actual person and not just an ex-experiment.

Once I had visited all three of the places I headed back to the apartment, where I was faced with the empty rooms once again. It was growing dark, so I quickly locked all of the windows and the door, completely aware that without the Soldier I was little more than a walking duck for anyone looking for me; I could defend myself, sure, but the chances of there only being a few people sent for me were minimal.

I then turned all of the lights on and curled up on the worn overstuffed armchair and tried to continue reading the book where I had left off hours before, but the nagging loneliness I felt began to gnaw at my insides.

I hate being alone. I hate being alone with a passion. I've hated being alone ever since My Room, where I'd had entirely too much alone time, and this is the first time since then that I've felt so alone. Back on the streets there was always the other bums that appeared at random, after being captured by SHIELD I was never alone, and now traveling with the Soldier I never felt alone because we were always either together, or we knew exactly where the other was. Now, I was alone with no clue where he was or if he'd ever come back, and I hated it.

I forced my brain to focus on the book, but it wouldn't, so I put it down and pulled the chair around until it was facing the door; I'd wait for him, and if he wasn't back by mid-morning I'd go looking for him. Because even though we hardly tolerated each other for the most part, I'd grown to have a sort of companionship with the dark assassin who used to be a brave soldier. And if I were better at identifying emotions, I might've been able to tell that I almost _missed_ him.

I unconsciously began to run through all the routines I did back when I was locked in My Room – counting as high as I could in all of the languages I knew, doing the alphabet in the same manner, trying to remember more about my childhood and the little details that people forgot over time – and I eventually calmed my quickened heart and sat in a daze for hours as I waited. I was just trying to remember what my mother sounded like when the handle on the front door began to jiggle.

My heart jumped in my throat both in fear and excitement. I silently jumped to my feet and crouched down to the ground. I needed to check who it was in case it was the Soldier, but I could be in a lot of trouble if it wasn't him trying to get in.

"May," came a voice from the other side. "May, it's me."

Then I was throwing the door open and all of my earlier worries seemed foolish, and yet they also seemed so painfully real.

"I thought you left," I breathed, letting him in before we drew any attention. He took his sweater off, then shot me a long look.

"I almost did." I wasn't as surprised as I thought I should've been. I wondered, though, why he didn't.

"What stopped you?" His response was immediate, as if he'd been thinking about that question himself.

"We have a deal. You heal me and I protect you. You've been healing me, but I haven't had to protect you yet. I have to hold up my end of the deal." I clenched my teeth against the lump that formed full force in my throat; this is the most human I've heard him be. Ever.

"Thank you," I forced out. "For thinking about me. And I'm sorry for how I spoke to you. I meant all of it, but that doesn't mean I should've said it." His tall form loomed over me – probably more than a foot taller than me – and yet I didn't feel nearly as threatened as I should as his shoulders relaxed slightly, taking a step back from me.

"No, you were right. I haven't been thinking right ever since the helicarriers and…Steve…and with you healing me I've had a lot on my mind, too. It's like I've got two people inside of me, trying to take control." I nodded; I'd gone through roughly what he's going through now, but not to such an extent, so I didn't say anything.

Now that the worry and the adrenaline were out of my system, I realized just how late it was.

"We should get to bed." He didn't say anything but headed to his room, and I took his lead. Before his door shut, though, I turned to the side.

"Soldier." He stopped and eyed me warily, as if worrying he'd get another reprimanding, so I smiled. "Thanks for coming back."

One step back, two steps forward. I smiled as I shut the light off in my room.


	8. Who I Was

**JLBriggs** : Ooh, lots of questions. You actually gave me a lot of ideas for this chapter (and a few other chapters) so thanks! And yes, currently they're just going through a lot of character development, so hopefully Bucky and May don't run into HYDRA any time soon…and I'd totally forgotten about how Bucky will react to Natasha getting May an ID, so I'll have to dwell on that for a bit. Thanks for the reminder. And yes, it's a big relief to finally be giving them character. It was so awful trying to figure out what to do with them when they wouldn't interact! Well, that problem's done and gone, thankfully. This chapter is a major turning point in their relationship, and things begin to look up in the face of their eventual relationship, which means lots more interaction. Finally. I don't think Bucky will ever really be _Bucky_ again, as Winter Soldier will always be a part of him, but yes. He gets better at being Bucky with time. As for my major, I'm a music pedagogy major, so I'm learning to teach people violin. Now, many of my brothers (and in-laws) are – or have been – in school for engineering, and I'm reminded constantly that a music major is puny, but there's a ton of homework. It's insane. And so are the professors. Ugh. Three years to graduation! (If I don't have to retake any classes….) And yes, I totally understand! Before I became a writer myself I'd just skip past authors notes and wonder briefly why on earth they were so long. Now I understand ;)

 **Astral Kai** : Okay, so I kind of did a really awful job at explaining things to your last review, so I'm going to really quickly clear things up. So I'm going to explain a sentence real quick: "I finally settled on Steve feeling a bit betrayed and hurt over May because he knows she's over there helping his best friend instead of Steve himself." So after looking at this I realized that I may have accidentally portrayed Steve as a bit selfish. Oops! What I meant by that is that Steve feels a bit hurt over May leaving so quickly after helping him save, well, a lot of people. Then, worse, she left with his best friend and hasn't told him where he is, because she claims she can help him. I imagine he's sorta blown this out of proportion, thinking May has maybe suggested Steve himself incapable of helping Bucky (remember that Bucky was the only person Steve had, pre-serum.) That's what I'm going with for now, but I'll cover it more in depth in Black Ice. And you're very right: May's enhanced healing isn't as fast as Bucky's or Steve's, and this is because her serum wasn't quite so potent as either of theirs, having only been a 'prototype' of Howard Starks when HYDRA managed to take it from him. This will be covered in bits and spurts all throughout the story. Hopefully. And I made herself unable to self-heal because the base of her ability is taking someone _else's_ injuries onto _herself_ (causing the pain she feels after) and so it wouldn't really make sense for her to be able to take her own injuries onto herself, because they're already hers. Does that make sense? As for renting books from the library….I never really thought about that. You're completely right. I'm going to go change that, and at the same time I'm going to change that bit of my answer to you (so I don't end up confusing anyone else who happens to read it.) And no, I haven't given many details on what May looks like. Sorry about that. I'll write it down in the author's note so others are more likely to see her description as well. As for making your account, have no fear! I am the worst at anything technology related, so I also had issues making an account at first. Honestly, I think I was over-complicating things a bit. All you do is click sign up on the top right of the page (in the blue bar) and put in the username and password you want. Then you'll go through all the 'has to have one number' 'not long enough' 'already taken' blah, and eventually it'll finally accept. Then it'll direct you to go to your email and do the account activation thing. Voila! Done. Tell me if you succeed, then I can give you a few sites and videos that really helped me get acquainted and familiar with everything.

I almost didn't post this week! I hardly had any time to write anything, so it's a good thing that I'd already gotten started on this chapter so I had it finished in time. I have a good excuse, though! Last week, this week, and next week are test weeks (one of my professors gave us a 6 page long test to do in a bit over an hour and a half. 6 Pages!) and so I've been studying my butt off. College sucks. So do it! Cuz it's worse when you're old and raising a bazillion kids (that's my mom's current situation). Get it over with and be done.

Anywho, it's been brought to my attention that I haven't really given a description of May yet. (Aside from vague things). So I've already covered that she's part Italian, dark hair, short, but I'll be a bit more precise:

Hair: Dark(ish) brown

Eye: Brown

Skin: Olive (These 3 things come from her Italian heritage)

Height: I originally had her 5'0", but then I realized that it would kinda be hard for her and Bucky to, you know, make out (Spoiler alert!) since he's so tall. So I've changed her to 5'2". Maybe that'll help their *cough* erm, situation.

Age: With her time in and out of cryo I'd place her age around 23, and Bucky's roughly 25. Ish.

Name: First – Emilia/Emma. With HYDRA – she was pretty much just called Asset (though she considered it more of a title than a name). It seems like a HYDRA thing. Post-HYDRA – No One (though she made that clear it wasn't her name, just a title). Currently - May

There, now you know what she looks like. If anyone has a DeviantArt account I'd love to get in contact with you if you're interested in doing a drawing of her. I'm also up for recommendations, if you know anyone with an account.

Also, I'm still looking for a beta, if anyone's interested in that. I have my eye on a few, but I'll also take recommendations for betas, too. Anyone who answers gets major brownie points! And I'll make you a pie! (Hope you don't mind if I eat it all).

 **Disclaimer: I am not currently rich and famous, so no, I don't own anything of Marvel's. Simply any OC's and my plot.**

Chapter 8

Who I Was

(And Who I Am)

Bucky's POV

"Someday," young Steve said to young Bucky, "I'm gonna be big and strong, so I can stop every bully in school." Bucky quirked an eyebrow, sizing up his small friend sporting a black eye. They were currently laying in a blanket fort built in the living room of Steve's apartment, the room quiet in the dark of night except for the voices of the two boys.

"Or you could just let me do it." Steve gave Bucky an exasperated look, causing him to shrug.

"Or I guess we could both do it." The look fell from Steve's face, looking pleased.

"We can both be the good guys, and together we'll get rid of bad guys." Bucky shook his head, chuckling, as he laid his head on a pillow.

"Whatever you say, Steve."

…

The girl had surprised me. She had shed her timid and quiet skin and called me out on something I couldn't explain, and that made me angry. It annoyed me that it made me angry, and being annoyed made me angry on top of that, so I ended up storming off with every intention to leave.

I wandered to the edge of the city, thoughts of what comes next running through my head. I could continue on and forget the girl and her abilities, or I could go back and kill her so my position wouldn't be compromised. All the different ways I could kill her without ever having it pointed in my direction ran through my mind, and I was surprised to find that the thought sickened me. Never before – at least not in a long time, or that I remembered – had I felt anything at all toward killing anyone whether a target or not, and suddenly I realized what exactly it was I'd be leaving behind if I left.

I'd be leaving behind the girl who had dropped everything she had to help heal my mind in exchange for protection from the people who would want to capture and experiment on her. The girl who called herself May because she didn't remember her name just like I hadn't before the man – Steve, my best friend (or so she's told me) – told it to me. The girl who was helping me regain what little I have of my past life for nearly nothing in return.

If I left now I'd be leaving her on her own and I would be back to square one in finding out who I once was. And the thought of leaving her, after she had become a new constant in my currently tumultuous life, made me realize that I couldn't leave her to watch herself against the people trying to get her.

I gave one more look at the grass and thick trees lying in front of me backed by the setting sun, then turned back to the buildings, making up my mind about something: I needed to stop being the person HYDRA forced me to be. From now on I'd try to be someone else – someone better – than I was currently.

It was late in the night by the time I got to the apartment, and I was surprised to find the door locked. I realized with a guilty pang that the girl – May – had already considered that I wasn't coming back and was taking her own measures to keep harmful people away.

There wasn't any sound from inside, but the lights were on so I had no doubt that she was still awake.

"May," I called, tasting the name on my tongue for the first time. "May, it's me." There still wasn't any sound, but the door was thrown open quickly.

Her eyes were filled with both fear and relief at once – the fear lingering no doubt from wondering if I had come to cut her up, though I wasn't quite sure why the relief was there.

The moment was broken as she quickly ushered me in, speaking as she did so.

"I thought you left," she said softly, proving me correct in my earlier observations.

"I almost did." She wasn't surprised.

"What stopped you?" I thought back to the moment when I stood facing the open land, all buildings behind me. I wanted to lie to myself and say that I only came back because she was the quickest and most convenient option in regaining my memories, but the truth was that I came back mostly just because she needed me. It's been a long time – too long – since I'd felt needed, and I forgot how nice it felt; not to be just a robot to answer HYDRA's beck and call.

"We have a deal. You heal me and I protect you. You've been healing me, but I haven't had to protect you yet. I have to hold up my end of the deal." We talked almost normally for the first time since we first took off together, and when I described to her what it felt I was going through she looked almost as if she understood what I was describing, and I suddenly remembered just who it was I was talking to.

She had told me already that she was an escaped experiment and I had witnessed her experiencing many of her own nightmares, no doubt of her time spent with HYDRA, and a few memories that had been returned to me were of training with the girl, albeit she was younger in my memories. But I couldn't help the unpleasant feeling I got when I realized just how little I knew about the girl standing in front of me; I was trained as an assassin, and that meant I knew my targets, and even though May wasn't a target the feeling continued to nag at me.

We parted to go to our own rooms, but before I could enter mine she spoke again.

"Soldier," she said, using the name she had slipped into calling me somewhere along our time together. Then she smiled the first smile I had seen her give, and it lit up her face, adding a light to her face that hadn't been there before. "Thanks for coming back."

…

I wasn't the only one who had nightmares that night, but hers were loud enough that I woke up. At first I had worried that someone had broken into the apartment and was attacking her, but as soon as I rushed out of my bedroom and into the dark living room I knew that wasn't right – it was too peaceful.

Upon racing into her room I found her thrashing in her newly-purchased bedding, as if fighting an unknown enemy, shrieking in her sleep. Without thinking I rushed over to her, pinning down her limbs to keep her from hurting herself. She screamed in my face, occasionally sobbing and begging to be let go.

"Wake up!" I yelled, wanting to shake her, but my arms were occupied trying to keep her from wriggling out of my grasp: she was a lot stronger than her small appearance let on.

After yelling a few more times for her to wake up – and getting a good punch in my face – her eyes finally snapped open. Her eyes searched the room for a moment and then recognition finally settled in, her eyes locking on mine, and she stopped struggling. Then, to my horror, she began crying.

She was a lot like me, in ways, in how she handles emotions. She doesn't show many and doesn't seem to understand them very well, but she seemed to know what they meant on other people to an extent – that she could use them against people, like HYDRA had trained us – but when she showed them herself it was as if she almost didn't know quite what she was supposed to do, so seeing such a display from her was shocking to say the least.

She lay there pinned under me, simply crying. Just as with me she didn't expect any comfort, and I knew that, but not long before I had decided to be different. Different than HYDRA had tried to make me be, and part of that was emotionless. It was HYDRA that made us stop expecting comfort. So I released her from under me and gently scooped her into my arms in a hug, not quite sure if I was doing it right. I had seen plenty of people doing it – whether affectionately or to comfort each other before I killed them – but doing it myself was a whole different story.

She seemed just as surprised as I was, her tears stopping for a moment, but then she seemed to melt into my embrace, and I tried to ignore the tears soaking into my shirt – though in the back of my mind I felt a slight twinge of disgust. Once her tears stopped – and her shaking had slowed somewhat – she began to speak.

"Sorry. Sorry. I just had a nightmare. I'm fine." Her mutterings like that went on for a while, so I simply ignored her – sounded like she was talking to herself more than to me, anyway. When she was finished she pulled away from me, curling up at the headboard.

With my enhanced eyesight I could see her clearly in the darkness – the tear trails on her face, which she tried to wipe away, how her hair was slightly mussed from the short time we had slept. I had gotten back in the early hours of the morning, and now the sun was just coloring the horizon a shade of blue.

"I was scared," she explained after a moment of silence. "When you left. I was afraid that HYDRA, or someone else, would come for me." Her eyes teared up again, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall and her voice went dark. "They did bad things to me. I don't know what they did to you, but I can't go back." Her voice then changed from dark to almost desperate. "I can't go back, Soldier."

We sat in silence for another while as I took in and analyzed all of what she had just said. She had suggested that she hadn't in fact read my files, which was interesting considering who I am and what I've done. Then I considered the name she had taken to calling me. It was something I had to been thinking on for a while now. According to the blonde man – as well as a few memories – my name was James, but he had called me Bucky on more than one occasion. In my memories Bucky was my preferred name, James being the one used when I was being reprimanded.

And the memories that had come to me during my bit of sleep had been of the train. Falling, and having someone calling my name – Bucky.

"Call me Bucky." Her eyes snapped to me from where they had strayed to the window. She didn't ask me to repeat myself, so she had heard me, but it took her a second to say anything.

"Bucky," she said slowly, as if tasting the name, getting a feeling for it. Then she blinked. "Is that your real name, or did you make it up?" Like she had made up hers. I shook my head.

"It's a nickname. My first name is James, but I usually went by Bucky." She tried out my first name as well, and an emotion flashed across her face quickly which I identified as envy. Envy that I remembered my name.

"And you don't remember your name at all?" Something resembling pain filled entered her eyes as she frowned, trying to recall something.

"I think…I'm not sure. I don't… my mother was in my dream, and she called me something." She hesitated, taking a breath, and shot a quick look up at me. "I think my name was Emma." She paused and her frown pulled down further. "But I think that was a nickname, too. I don't remember…" She trailed off as her brows pulled down a bit as she tried to remember more, but gave up soon after.

"I borrowed a book from the library – the one I've been reading – and it's on psychology," she started hesitantly. "It says that talking about things helps you process them. A lot of people don't believe it, but apparently it really does work." She didn't say anything more than that, but I caught on to what she was suggesting.

"You want to talk about it." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway.

"If anything has a chance of working, I want to try it. I'm tired of reliving my past every night; I want to move on." She stopped for a second, but resolve showed in her features as she plowed on. "It was a long time ago, when I was first taken by HYDRA. It was back before I had grown accustomed to everything, back before I was injected with the serum." She had mentioned that earlier, how Steve, herself, and I had been injected with the serum and that was why she and Steve could hold their own in a fight against me. "I had remembered something my mother said to me after she had been working in the mills for a while." She had also explained to me that she had been taken around the same time I had been, making three people taken out of their time. "She had explained to me that after a while of being treated like you're nobody, you become nobody, and I remembered that, because even though I was HYDRA's asset, I wasn't really anyone anymore." She stopped, then looked into my eyes again, drilling into mine with her dark brown ones.

"It was terrifying. I only just became someone again. I don't want to be No One again." Then she stopped, starting again with a quieter voice. "I don't want to be Emma again, either. I'm happy as May. So I can't go back. I don't want to anyone else." With that she finished. There was a moment of silence.

"Did it work?" I finally asked. Her eyes shot up to mine for a second, so I elaborated. "Did it help to talk?" She thought about that for a second.

"I'm not really sure. I've never talked to anyone about that before, so I mostly just feel kind of weird."

We missed our workout that morning, but I didn't mind. May was in a good mood the rest of the morning – little smiles creeping up her face occasionally – and I could've sworn I heard her humming quietly as she made a ton of eggs for breakfast, as we were a bit lacking in the food department at the moment. As we sat down to eat she gave me one of her quick smiles that disappeared as quick as they came.

"Thanks for helping this morning. If you ever need to talk, too, I'm happy to listen." And for a moment I was almost tempted to take her up on her offer. Almost.

…

If anyone tells me a bit on how to go about getting someone to draw my OC on DeviantArt, or something, I'll post two chapters next week.


	9. We're Healing

**Astral Kai:** I'm glad you enjoyed my 'discretion'! As for talents in the arts...meh. The good thing about art is there's no concrete definition. Anyway! I really liked this chapter, too! I actually plan on having quite a bit in Bucky's POV for this book, because it has just as much to do with him as it does with May. We'll see. And yes, a beta is a beta reader, someone who is qualified to read through one's writings before it's posted and find any errors that the writer may have missed before it's posted. I've been trying to figure out how to get one since I started writing at the beginning of summer, but I haven't gotten too many complaints for grammar and such, so I've not been too pressed. Maybe during winter break I'll try to figure that out. And good luck with your exams! I have midterms, too, so we can stress together...And thanks for your pep-talk! I really feel good about my major, but having someone back me up is pretty nice, too.

 **JLBriggs:** I know you didn't review, so I don't really have anything to answer to, but I just wanted to that you again for reminding me about Bucky's reaction to May getting an I.D. from Natasha, because while writing this chapter I actually forgot (again) to include that detail, and while checking to make sure I replied to everyone I reread your reminder and quickly included it. Thanks!

Sorry! So sorry! I thought about posting last week, but I had to write a 5-7 paged philosophy paper, due on Monday, on top of all of my usual homework WITH midterms around the corner. Okay, those are all my excuses. I considered posting two chapters today to make up for it, but, well, those midterms coming around the corner? They're here. Fall Break next week! Ah! I'm gonna die! The tests never stop! And my stand partner in symphony is trying to teach me Portuguese on top of the Spanish I already learned, and I'm currently learning German. It never stops! Okay, so the excuses weren't over.

Anyway, my Fall Break is just next week, so make sure to look for a holiday deal next time I post, and then we can get back on schedule with the chapters. Anyway, how's life? Any homeschoolers out there, I envy you. Enjoy it while you can. And be good to your moms. Moms are awesome. Okay, sporadic comments are done. Onto the disclaimer!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but any OC's and my plot, but you should know that by now because I've literally said it each time. Darn lawsuit crud stuff.**

Chapter 9

We're Healing

(Slowly But Surely)

When I was still new to the mills everything was very big and scary. The manager was big and his glare was scary. The machines were big and their sounds were scary, and the building itself was very big and scary. I wasn't the only one who felt it, either. The other kids who worked with me often shared the same concerns in scared whispers as the adults walked past.

I wasn't the youngest there, either. Most of the kids were older than me, as well as many adults, but there were the occasional kids my age or a couple years younger.

I knew it was against the law for us to work here. I had told Uncle George this once, too, and got a good slap for it before he explained that there's no such thing as a law. And at first I didn't understand what he meant. With time I heard the rumors, though. I heard of how the manager could be persuaded to turn a blind eye to one's age for a friend, or if promised a bit of the money in return.

And there really wasn't anything us kids could do about it, either.

…

Once I got the package from Natasha I was left with the decision of what to tell Bucky on how I got the I.D. I was torn, since I generally try to tell the truth, but I was afraid he'd leave if he found out I had let Natasha know roughly where we were hiding. So I reluctantly settled for lying, and practiced all the things HYDRA had taught me, and when I told him I had paid a stranger to get me a fake I.D., he believed me.

Lying to him made me feel gross, though, and I tried to tell myself that it was okay, but I knew it wasn't.

"We should get cell phones," I said once I got an email telling me the restaurant was considering me for work. I just had to come in tomorrow to see how things worked. "So we can contact each other in case anything goes south." The Soldier didn't acknowledge me at all, continuing to eat his food. He had been relatively silent – more so than usual – since he woke me from my nightmare the day before, and I was beginning to grow worried that I had done the wrong thing in telling him what I had dreamed about, or that he had figured out I had lied to him about the I.D. Talking about my dream had helped me, though. I couldn't tell at first, but with time I realized that I felt lighter, and my mind didn't feel so weighed down. Maybe I was being selfish, though. As for the I.D., I pushed it to the back of my mind, hoping it wasn't what was bothering him.

I put down my fork – once again eating eggs since that was the cheapest thing at the time. I plan to go shopping soon, but then again, I'd been telling myself that for a couple days now.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He showed tiny signs of being surprised, and if I weren't trained to look for small signs like that I would've missed it. He did a good job of hiding it, though, and continued to eat his own food, not answering. I looked down for a second before forcing myself to continue facing him.

"Is it because I talked to you about my dream?" His surprise wasn't so concealed this time.

"No," he said immediately. He seemed to consider not saying anything more, but I kept my gaze on him, so he hesitantly began looking for a way to phrase his words.

"I was thinking." I waited for more and he finally consented. His eyes abruptly met mine and he voiced what was on his mind.

"You're helping me get my memories back, which means I'm going to remember everything HYDRA took from me, eventually. Can you get your memories back?" It was my turn to be surprised. I honestly hadn't thought he cared for me enough to worry about things like that. I shook my head after a moment.

"When I was put on the chair it wasn't to take my life from me, just certain parts. Not my time before HYDRA." I thought back to what Zola had said about the chair still having taken some of those memories from me. "Mostly," I added, making his eyebrows go up a fraction. I ignored his silent question so I could continue his original question. "I just forgot a lot of things with time. And I'm pretty sure there aren't other people with my ability, so I can't get back the bits the chair took from me, or it's unlikely that I will." I wasn't sure if I imagined it, but he almost looked disappointed.

"But sometimes I remember some things. Like I remembered my old nickname." Emma. I still wasn't entirely sure if that even _was_ my nickname, but something about it just felt right. When it seemed he wasn't going to say anything else I continued on with my cell phone conversation.

"After I'm done at the restaurant tomorrow I'll stop at a store for groceries, and look for untraceable phones." He wasn't done with the other conversation, though, and ignored me once again.

"Your files are online now, like everything else. You could look at them to see if it helps you remember anything." I frowned at where the conversation was going.

"There's really nothing to remember. I know all of the important things." I think. I guess there's not really a way for me to know for sure. Despite that small uncertainty, I held tight to my conviction.

"You could look to make sure." I couldn't decide whether to be touched by his sudden concern for me or bothered by his persistence.

"I don't want to look at them," I finally admitted, food all but forgotten. "I'm still trying to deal with my life right now. I don't need to deal with my life back then, too." I stared into his eyes hard, trying to get my words across, and he finally broke the contact in submission. I was relieved, but slightly worried that this wasn't going to be the end of this.

Now that I thought about it, though, it might not be such a bad idea for himself. He was searching for the past he didn't remember and I really didn't know much about, so I wasn't sure what he'd find there, and it might aid him in getting answers. I didn't want to face my past, though. Too many ghosts.

Suddenly not hungry, I covered the food in plastic wrap and stuck it in the loud fridge (Great Depression, remember?) before going over to the overstuffed armchair I had silently claimed as my own, a different book in my arms, this one on the cultures of the world. It was surprising how much the whole world had changed in my absence; it wasn't just the U.S. that had changed so much. I had gone back to the library yesterday after surreptitiously taking the package from Natasha out of the old couples' mailbox, finding within a passport and a driver's license. At the library I had picked out a few books for both me and Bucky this time, figuring he'd have plenty of empty time while I was gone.

Thinking back on it, I pulled the I.D. out of my pocket and looked at it for a moment; the only problem with the I.D. was that the girl's hair was rather short, and if I did the math of how long had passed since the picture had supposedly been taken, the chances of my hair being as long as it was now – reaching my mid-back – a suspicious person could call me out on it.

With that in mind I walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the scissors Bucky had swiped from the front desk for no apparent reason – he hardly even seemed to realize he did it. Probably identified it as a weapon and grabbed it instinctively – and headed over to the small bathroom.

I took another look at the picture on the I.D., figuring a bit past shoulder-length should be good, then gripped the scissors and began cutting my hair. It wasn't the first time I'd cut my hair – far from it – and I was slightly relieved to have short hair again. But I couldn't help thinking I'd miss my long hair. It made me feel like the girl I once was. The one who wore dresses, and had a family; the one who was still innocent and happy in the way only a child could be.

As I continued to chop the sides of my hair off, making the sides even, the door behind me opened, revealing the Soldier – Bucky – who seemed rather confused at what I was doing.

"For the job," I explained. Then I was faced with the difficult task of cutting the back of my hair evenly, which I'd never really had to worry about before. Back when I was young mother cut the back for me, and with HYDRA they kept my hair as short as a boy's, and both times I'd been on the streets I hadn't really worried about things like appearance.

Now, though, I needed to look nice for a job – if I got it – and I worried that a place as fancy as the restaurant wouldn't accept me purely because of a bad haircut, so I turned my gaze hesitantly to the Soldier's, meeting them in the mirror only to find he was already looking at me.

"Have you ever cut hair before?" I blurted, completely aware it was an odd question. He knew, too, but answered anyway, raising an eyebrow.

"How would I know?" Without realizing it one of the corners of my mouth pulled upward, though I wasn't entirely sure if he meant that to be funny, but it was to me. It was funny because I should've known he wouldn't remember.

"Feel like finding out?" He didn't say anything, so I held the scissors out behind me, handle toward him, and he hesitantly took it. He was slow at first, but got more confident as he went along.

"I had a sister," he said abruptly, almost causing me to jump as I was startled from my thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror, but his attention was on my hair, which he had stopped cutting. I stayed still, trying not to interrupt his memory.

"She was…She was a lot younger than me." His voice changed suddenly to something more carefree and almost practiced, as if it had been said a lot. "She had Ma's blonde hair and Da's dark eyes." He suddenly frowned, shaking his head, and I watched on in fascination as he switched back to the dark voice I had become familiar with. "Her name was…It was Rose. Rosie." And suddenly his eyes were filled with sorrow, and I knew he was missing the little girl who grew up without her older brother. So I quickly began talking to distract him.

"I had a little brother. His name was Little Tommy and he was a force of nature." His eyes snapped up to the mirror, meeting mine as I gazed intently at him. "There wasn't anything he couldn't get if he really wanted it. Once mother put a plate of cookies on top of the fridge for supper so I wouldn't get them, but it was Little Tommy, who was hardly walking! He got them, and mother got so mad at me when she found them ruined, until we found Tommy with chocolate all over his face. And that's not even the worst of it! He was stealing left and right, but he was so adorable that no one told him off, and he'd just go and steal some more." I chuckled, shaking my head at the memory of my beloved brother who was gone now, and when I looked back up at the Soldier – _Bucky_ – humor sparkled in his eyes as well.

He finished cutting my hair, then retreated from the room as I gathered up the hair from the floor and threw it out in the kitchen garbage, as it was the only garbage can we had, and there wasn't a broom yet.

My hair felt weird and my head felt as if it had lost a few pounds, but I perched up on the overstuffed sofa across from Bucky who was sitting rigidly on the couch, reading one of the books I'd gotten him. I opened my own book, and we settled in a companionable silence as we read the day away, and the edges of my lips twitched up when Bucky finally got comfortable as well, setting his bare feet on the small coffee table.

We may both be damaged, and rather messed up, but we were getting past it. Slowly, we were healing.


	10. A New Job

**Lara Barnes:** I'm glad you're liking it! And yes, Bucky's finally showing signs of who he once was, and I hope it's as fun to read it as it is to write it! And I have a really quick holiday deal that I'll mention below if you'd like to get the new chapter sooner. Thanks for reviewing!

So as I mentioned to Lara Barnes, I have a holiday deal for you guys (even though it's not technically a holiday). I'm on Fall Break, and that's worth celebrating! So here's the deal:

 **Warning – You Should Know What This Means By Now – Don't Pass This**

If by today, October 15th, (Sorry! I accidentally said the 10th, but it's actually the 15th. Sorry!) I have a total of 26 reviews (Only THREE More) I'll give you the next chapter as soon as I've got all three.

Because I missed posting two weeks ago, this is my way of saying sorry! And getting back on track with the chapters. So as soon as you read this chapter make sure to review, and you'll get the next chapter pretty quick.

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than any OC's and my plot. (And I absolutely do not own anything of Angus Barn's, including them. Just consider it free advertising. It's a great place.)**

Chapter 10

A New Job

(And Settling Down)

My first and foremost job in HYDRA was healing. On missions my primary job was making sure the whole team got back in one piece, at the price of myself. And I did it, because the punishment I faced for failing was often worse than the pain the others' pain caused me.

The experiments I was subject to for so long were awful, but they were all familiar. I knew what to expect; the injuries I was made to heal were carefully inflicted by the scientists around me, and so they could be healed in a relatively familiar fashion.

Out in the field, though, everything was unfamiliar and sporadic. I could only predict their injuries to the vaguest degree. In HYDRA, everything was a nightmare. But my job was so much worse.

…

In my nervousness I had accidentally arrived at the restaurant nearly twenty minutes early. It was better early than late, though (I read that online). So I took the extra time and used it to map out the area surrounding the large restaurant, which was actually a very large building that looked like a very fancy barn. The design of the building fit the name, though, being _Angus Barn,_ and once I had finished scoping out the building I realized that the lies on my job application must've been really impressive if they were considering taking me up for the job.

Around the large barn was a lot of land, plenty of greenery, and lots of lights, and I knew without a doubt that the building was quite the view at night. Once I returned to the front I walked in, and the inside was even more amazing than the outside, if that was possible. It was already bustling with a decent amount of guests, even though I knew from my research that their busiest time was dinner, and the whole thing looked like something out of a magazine. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, the tables all set perfectly, and the lights adding a grand look to it all, and I wondered briefly if I was even worthy of working in such a beautiful place.

Steeling myself, I walked to the front desk and smiled at the woman behind it.

"I'm here for a job interview." After telling her what time I was scheduled for she called someone else to bring me to the manager's office.

"So you're the new girl," the girl started conversationally. I braced myself, running through all the false information – my history, name, all that stuff – and nodded, quickly reviewing myself on the rules of conversing.

"My name's Amber Jeanne Webb," I said, before scolding myself because when people introduce themselves they don't give the middle name. The girl's eyebrow quirked up quickly as we exited the loud room with people dressed in fancy clothes, getting to a quieter hallway where the jumbled voices were just an echo behind us.

"Amber-Jeanne?" She clarified, and I recognized that she though my middle name was a part of my first.

"Just Amber." Her eyebrow quirked even further as she realized the mistake I had made in introducing myself, and I scolded myself once again. Then, to my shock, she just shrugged.

"You're alright with me calling you AJ?" I blinked, then realized she had just given me a nickname.

"Sure." And with that she didn't even mention my mistake, and I realized that being unusually nice really _was_ just a North Carolinian thing.

"Call me Mimi. It's short for Miriam, but I hate that name. So don't call me it." I nodded my consent, then we reached the door with the label 'Manager' and we stopped.

"Good luck, AJ," then she walked away, and suddenly my previous nervousness was back. I'd never done a job application before, and I was worried that I hadn't dressed fancy enough – especially looking at the people in the main room – or that there might be something stuck in my teeth. And suddenly, I just wanted to walk out. Stealing from people couldn't be that bad of an idea. I'm sure Bucky and I could pull it off.

Then I chided myself. No use in backing off now when I was so close. After a quick pep-talk, I took a deep breath and raised my hand, knocking before I could convince myself not to.

"Come in," came a voice from within, so I did.

The manager sat behind his expensive looking desk in an expensive looking suit and I once again felt underdressed, and I knew I was. Next to his suit, my jeans and Tshirt made me look like a peasant. He motioned toward one of the seats across from him, and I complied, quickly taking a seat.

"You must be Amber Webb," he started. I nodded, quickly evaluating him and the room for threats, but didn't find any. His graying hair and the faint wrinkles drawn on his face told me he was a happy man, and I immediately dismissed the idea of him being a threat. "I'm John Simmons, but please call me John." I nodded, not trusting my voice not to shake like my hands were.

Once he finished talking he pulled a paper from a stack on his desk, placing it in front of him.

"I read your application and your skill set and experiences are just the things I was looking for." I wasn't sure what to say to that, considering it was all a lie, so I just nodded again. He cracked a smile at me at that.

"I'm not going to bite." I recognized that phrase vaguely as a tension breaker, so I hesitantly smiled myself.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I just feel very out of place. Everything's very fancy and…yeah." I blushed at my lack of conversational skills, but his smile only grew wider.

"Don't worry, that can be taken care of. You'll be wearing a uniform every day, so as long as you have that you'll look just like the rest of the waiters." My eyes widened slightly at what he was implying.

"I get the job?" but we'd hardly talked at all. He seemed to sense my confusion.

"You're application told me everything I need to know, and I can already tell after these few minutes that you're going to fit in great here." I smiled at him then, unsure again on what I was supposed to say, but I thanked him anyway.

"Just ask someone to show you around, and observe other employees on what they're doing. At the end of the day we'll figure out your shifts. And here," he took a blank strip of paper and wrote something on it. "Go to this first location to get your suit. Just tell them you're employed here and they'll know what to get. And I advise going here to the second location to get your suit dry cleaned when needed." I took the strip of paper, nodding, and feeling excited, nervous, and almost a bit stressed at the same time. The mix of emotions was unpleasant.

"Alright Amber, I look forward to working with you."

"Yes, you too. Thank you." And then I was walking back down the hall to the large crowded room and spotted Mimi almost immediately, who grinned at me.

"You got the job?" She asked as soon as we were close enough to hear each other. I nodded, surprised she had guessed so quickly. "Yeah, he's like that. John is very good with people so he can pretty much tell if he's going to like people or not right away." Oh, okay. "So why don't I show you around?" It was phrased as a question, but it wasn't, so I went ahead and followed her as she began showing me the building.

Now that my sight wasn't clouded by nervous fears, I was able to process things a lot better. Whereas I had seen fancy people, I now realized that some of the people were dressed more casually, a few with children at their table. Mimi saw me looking and explained.

"Families usually come up until around dinner, when everything gets really fancy and lots of wine comes out. Maggie, the one at the front, she's been working here for years, and she says that things used to be a lot more strict – people had to dress up, no kids – but it's got a lot more casual since then." She then showed me the rest of the building – the kitchen, wine cellar, the such, then showed me around the outside as well, pointing out a fire pit where bonfires were lit and the pavilion where people had weddings and the such.

After that I watched her go about doing her job – taking calls, showing people where to go, taking their orders and cleaning after them, cleaning dishes, and pretty much a lot of everything. By the time the day had ended I felt slightly overwhelmed, but found it was a pleasant kind of overwhelmed. Excitement had begun growing in me, the same kind of excitement I had felt when creating my own email. It was the excitement I felt when I realized that I was no longer a No One; I was slowly becoming my own person again.

I signed my name on six of the days – three for the morning shift, three for the evening shift – causing Mimi's eyes to bug out at me.

"Every day?" she had asked – more like squeaked – and I shook my head.

"Not Sunday." It was a habit drilled into me by my days in the mill; Sundays were the only days I didn't have to work.

"But still," she said, grabbing her stuff from a locker in the employee's room. "That's a lot of time spent here. Most people like to continue their lives outside of work." I didn't really have a life outside of work. And besides, it would be good for Bucky to have some alone time each day to try and figure himself out. Company is good, but sometimes being alone is good, too.

Though in my case, I had to know that I wasn't going to be alone for too long, and it couldn't be in the dark, or in a small room, or without a decent lock on the door, or…you get the point.

When we made it outside we parted ways – me to walk, her to her car – and we waved each other off.

"Make sure to get really good shoes, or your feet will literally kill you." I nodded my understanding.

"Thanks," I called back to her, filing it away in my mind even though I didn't think it would be all that important to me; do serum-enhanced people get sore feet? If so, I was sure it would take a lot more than it would take a normal person.

I hurried to a nearby store and got a ton of food as well as two untraceable block-looking cell phones with two minute cards that were good for a month, then hurried back to the apartment worried HYDRA would pop up around any of the corners, and made a note to myself to buy pepper spray since I couldn't very well bring a gun to work every day, and was relieved when I finally made it up to the apartment safely. I knocked on the door, using the pattern Bucky and I had come up with to tell each other it was us, having to put down an armful of bags to free my hand.

The door unlocked and he opened it up for me as I squeezed through with all of the bags, then went through the process of putting them all away. Bucky joined me in the kitchen, helping – though the two of us hardly fit in the small space together while moving around. We finally established the routine of him handing me the food from the bags and me putting them where they belonged in the fridge.

"How was your day?" I asked as he handed me a few blocks of cheese.

"Fine." I held my hand out for the next items once I put the cheese in the cheese drawer, and he passed me a few packages of strawberries.

"Did you do anything?" I realized that was an odd question – of course he had done things – but wasn't quite sure how to phrase the question I wanted to ask. He understood, though, and ignored my slip. Which I was grateful for.

"I walked around. Read a bit. Stopped at that library you told me about." I nodded, not worried. His face hardly came up on the news anymore, and he always made sure to cover his arm and hide his face somewhat.

"How was work?" He asked, surprising me, but I answered nonetheless. It was a pleasant surprise, and I was more than happy to talk about my first day of work.

"It was great. I was hired after just a few minutes, and then I followed another employee around the rest of the day to see how things work. Her name's Mimi." We finished putting the groceries away, and I set to make dinner, even though it was rather late.

"Have you eaten?" I asked.

"Eggs," he grumbled, causing a side of my mouth to twitch up. Figuring he could use more food – as well as some diversity – I pulled out the ingredients to make enough spaghetti for two people with fast metabolism.

As I began the water boiling I turned to Bucky, who was back in the living room to make moving around in the kitchen easier for me.

"I need to borrow some money to buy a uniform," I told him. "I plan on getting it tomorrow morning." He nodded, then went into his room to grab some for me. He came back and handed me a decent wad, and I was grateful because I wasn't entirely sure how much it would cost.

"Thanks."

Once the water began boiling in the newly purchased large pan I stuck a ton of noodles in the water, then grabbed the two phones and the card with minutes on it (you guessed it: I looked up how to do this) and carried them over to Bucky. I handed them to him, letting him do the bit that actually involved messing with the phones (HYDRA had mostly just taught me to deal with computers, not cell phones) and once he had them up and running I had him put each other's contacts in the phones on quick-dial. Once that was done I stuck it in my pocket and went to strain the noodles.

Pretty soon I had two large bowls full of dinner set on the table, with the rest of the noodles in an even larger bowl in the middle of the table, since I had no doubt he would want seconds. And thirds. Perhaps even fourths.

Once finished – he always managed to finish eating before I was done, even with his large appetite – we cleaned up dinner.

As I scrubbed the dishes clean, handing them to him to towel dry them, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. For the first time I was settled somewhere, and I was happy, in an odd sense. True, Bucky could still kill me without even trying, and there were no doubt a few organizations searching for me so they could cut me up, but I had a job, an email, a cell phone. I had a kitchen to make food in like I'd done with my mother so many years ago, and a sofa I could curl up in and read.

"I like it here," I told Bucky abruptly. I could feel him looking at me, but I continued to look at the dishes I was scrubbing. He didn't say anything, but I was fine with that. At least it meant he didn't completely dislike it here.

…

 **Another Disclaimer: In case I wasn't clear in the first disclaimer, I do not own Angus Barn or anything belonging to it. Just thought I'd be careful.**

I'm fully aware that this chapter focused a lot on May, and had a lot of filler in it, but that's why you should review, because the next chapter is in Bucky's POV, and I must say it's pretty cute. I really like the next chapter. **So you need to review!** Because it's a very cute chapter and I'm very proud of it so I want you to read it!


	11. Making Promises

**JLBriggs:** Long time no see! Thanks for reviewing so quick. And sorry for that mistake! I meant the 15th, but somehow got the date mixed up and said the 10th. Anyway, here's the new chapter!

 **IsoldeAhlstrom:** Thank you! I'm glad you're liking it, and thanks for posting. Hope you like the chapter as much as I do!

 **Mayoslack:** Hello again! I'm happy to see how perceptive you are in picking up May's feelings, because she really is happy, and I'm glad to see I was able to get that across :) Good luck with your job! I hope you get a good one. What are you going for? Any favorite professions? And yes, her manager's kind of like the boss everyone hopes for, but there are some really annoying bosses out there. I hope you get a good one! As for James, yes, he's still a grumpy-butt. But he definitely takes a large step in this chapter! (That's part of why I like it so much). Hope you like it!

I gave you the chapter! I was pretty much going to give it to you anyway, but I wanted to see if you guys would meet my demands, and you almost did! That's impressive. I think I usually give you a few days to post 5 reviews, so this is definitely progress!

Anyway, I've been having major boy problems, and I need help. You see, this guy's pretty much insane and convinced I'm supposed to marry him. Help! I don't know what to do! Today I tried talking to him to tell him I don't have any feelings for him whatsoever, but now he wants an answer to _why_ I don't love him. How should I know!? All I know is that I don't even remotely like him, and that should be enough. But it's not. Please, I need help!

Back to more enjoyable topics, here's the disclaimer (if I'm calling the disclaimer a better topic, you know something's up).

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my plot and any OC's. If I did own anything else, I'd already have taken my private jet and disappeared to Hawaii, forgetting all about this boy drama. Ugh.**

Chapter 11

Making Promises

(Has A Lot to do With Trust)

Bucky's POV

I remember often feeling bad for Steve, because everyone he cared for slowly left him, despite their desire to stay. Living in such an unstable time of America's history often meant unstable lives, and Steve was the perfect epitome of that.

Not only Steve, though. As soon as the war started a lot of promises were made that were destined to be broken. "I'll be back," was one of those promises, and no matter how much the soldiers wanted it to be true, a lot of them broke those promises. And every time I heard it, I couldn't help but lose a little trust in these young soldiers going off to war, because what's a promise that's not meant to be kept?

This consumed my mind as I made the same false promise to my friends and family when I left for the war, too, and just like so many, I broke that promise.

…

May added work to her schedule easily. She had arranged her work schedule so she worked evening on Tuesdays so she wasn't so wiped out after healing me, but it was still obvious when she got back that it was still affecting her. On Tuesdays I made dinner for her, giving her some down time.

She told me that when she first started working her friend Mimi had warned her that her feet would get sore, and May had thought that as she was enhanced with the serum it would take more for her to feel anything. She had told me this while massaging her sore feet and admitting she was wrong. I had to hold down a chuckle at the dejected face she was making, and simply turned back to my book, telling her to go to a store to buy some better shoes. She had agreed, though she sounded just as dejected as she looked.

I was slightly worried, too, that she was pushing herself too hard. She didn't say anything to complain, but I watched as the bags grew under her eyes with time as she juggled work, healing my mind, figuring herself out, and helping me figure myself out, on top of all the studying she was doing to get back in touch with the world, working out in the mornings, and until recently making all the meals – as she insisted on doing until I finally made her give some of the meals to me. I had taken up shopping, too, so she could stay back, and I often returned to find her sleeping curled up on the armchair she had taken up residency in, a book squished between her legs and her chest.

I had finally brought up her exhaustion, but she insisted that once she got used to working it would get easier to handle, and she was right. As she adjusted to the added work – and as I continued pressing her to give more responsibilities over to me – the bruises under her eyes gradually disappeared, to my relief.

As she worked each day I wandered around the city, finding nooks and crannies that could be used to hide from pursuers, empty warehouses that we could use to lay low, all escape routes from the apartment and her work. I had gone to the place multiple times, just watching from a distance at the people coming and going from the building, watching for any that seemed they could harm her, but I knew better than to stray too close; even disguised I looked alarming to most people.

"It's your glare," May had explained to me once. "You're always glaring at everything." After that I had made a special effort to not glare, but gave up after not too long; after so long of showing absolutely nothing emotion-wise, any other facial expressions just seemed too bothersome to make.

I stopped at the library often, too. May had gotten me a library card, so I browsed along, looking for anything that was either interesting – gun magazines – or useful – For Dummies books – and for the first while the computer taunted me, and I knew that I could just look up the girl I was currently living with and knew nothing about.

But then I'd remind myself that she hadn't looked me up even though I was the more threatening of the two. And even though I hadn't ever spoken to her about looking at her file, I knew she wouldn't like the invasion on her privacy. Still, the temptation was there. Until one day, when she returned from work on a Tuesday night and found dinner already made. She had given me a little tired smile that expressed all of her gratitude, making my heart do an odd little flip, and suddenly it wasn't a temptation anymore; she would tell me when she wanted to, _if_ she wanted to.

Her shortened hair took a while to get used to, but after a while I found the way she tucked it behind her ears when it was getting in her way a little endearing, and I often found myself studying her when her hair shielded her face while she read.

Monday healing sessions grew harder for me, not just because of the growing stress in my mind from the new memories that assaulted me the rest of the week, but because each time I saw her writhing in pain afterward it grew harder to bear than it was the previous week.

It was currently a Monday night, and I was being faced with the difficult decision of what to do now that the session was over. She often told me to ignore her until she was feeling better, which was usually hours later, and I often took her up on that, up until recently. Recently it was harder to ignore her small sounds of pain, or how her knuckles turned white with how tight she gripped her head. Tonight I tried to convince myself to go into the other room and try to break through the weakened "barrier" – that's how she described it – in my mind, but found that I couldn't.

So instead I scooped her up in my arms and settled onto the bed she had been sitting on, flipping her lamp off and sending the room into darkness, simply holding her curled form in my arms as I leaned back against the headboard. She had explained to me once that keeping such tight control of her ability while healing gave her a headache, and that's why she preferred to heal me at night; light added to the pain in her head.

With the light off her squirms of pain didn't lessen, but they didn't get any worse, either. As I held her in my arms, feeling as she slowly adjusted to my grip and struggled less – though still gripping her head and making sounds of pain – I sifted through my memories. As the sessions continued I found myself craving memories of my life before HYDRA – dreading the ones with HYDRA – and often found myself amused with the antics of the small Steve.

"That was before the serum," May had said when I told her about the small Steve. "He said he was about as tall as me." And after regarding her small form I was surprised, because Steve must've been very small.

As I held May to myself memories of similar experiences flashed in my mind against the darkness – cradling Rosie against my chest when she needed comforted, further memories of being cradled to my own mother's chest when I needed comforted. Homesickness weighed on my mind, and I found myself almost wishing for the time I had lost. The time where I had a family and friends, where HYDRA hadn't taken who I was and twisted it into something awful.

Darker, though, were the memories of my time with HYDRA. I remembered the pain of the machine, the terror of cryo, and watched as my memories began getting more and more blank, as HYDRA turned me into a blank slate. I was able to watch myself turn from human to machine.

I watched myself ruthlessly attack the girl I held in my arms, and myself being ruthlessly attacked by the other super-soldiers.

So I turned away from the memories of HYDRA and recalled my time before HYDRA, before the war, back when life was almost unbelievably simple, and by the time I receded from my mind against the pounding in my head that was a result from delving too far into my memories for too long, May had stopped squirming and was quiet.

Her breath was even against my chest, and I wondered if she was asleep and if I should set her down on her bed.

"Are you asleep?" I asked in a low voice. Her head shook no, but she stayed quiet, snuggling deeper into me. I responded instinctively, holding her even tighter, and we just sat in silence for a while. Spasms would make her body shudder occasionally, but aside from that she stayed still. While she continued to recover I took in my surroundings.

I came into her room every week for the healing sessions, but I was never in there for too long, so the sight was almost new. There wasn't much to see, though. As with the rest of the house there were hair thin cracks in the ceiling and the walls. Her two uniforms for work were the only things that hung in her door-less closet, with her new pair of shoes set neatly beneath them next to her cheaper shoes that she wore outside of work. The rest of her clothes were no doubt folded neatly in the old dresser resting on the opposite wall. Her bedspread was a basic blue, and the only other personal touch was a thick brown drape she had bought to put over her window for nights like this. And I wondered briefly what we would have been like if we hadn't been taken by HYDRA; if we had been born in the 21st century and HYDRA was just something we read about on the news.

"Wanna talk about it?" She slurred slightly. I looked down at her, but she hadn't moved at all so I was left staring at the top of her head as she rested it against me. "Your memories," she clarified, her voice getting steadier. "Do you want to talk about any of them?" I shook my head instinctively, like I did every time she asked. Not only just because I didn't want to talk about them, but because most of my memories were still just figments of the whole thing; most of the time I didn't remember enough for there to be anything to talk about. So instead I maneuvered her so she was sitting on her own, then I stood up and left the room so she could get some rest.

…

The next day I found myself on my way to the place she worked with the excuse of mapping out escape routes or watching for enemies, but somewhere deep down I knew it was a lie. I was intrigued by the girl. With more of Bucky's memories surfacing with time I came to realize just how extraordinary she was; the only other person I'd met who was so selfless was Steve. From my spot in the greenery I could see into the front doors where she was currently escorting people to their tables. To me she was visibly exhausted, but she hid it well from normal eyes, and she smiled often to make up for her lack of conversational know-how.

Her awkwardness in speaking showed itself occasionally, when she would randomly stop speaking during a conversation because she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say next, or stop mid-sentence because she couldn't remember how to say whatever it was on her mind.

I watched as another girl in an employee's suit approached May and I recognized her as the friend – Mimi – saying something that made May give her an odd look. That was another thing I noticed about May: as she grew comfortable with people she grew equally more open as well, and the odd face she was giving Mimi proved my observations to be correct.

I went back to the house well before her shift ended, scoping the area out for new dangers and not finding any, reading a bit of a book before going to the kitchen and getting started on dinner.

I didn't know how to make too many things because when I was Bucky women were expected to cook, and when I was with HYDRA being their perfect weapon was the only thing they had me learn. As a result I found myself looking in cooking books or watching when May made food, committing the recipes to memory so I could make them later.

May didn't often make fancy things – she explained that it's because she didn't have much money growing up – and so I made it a goal to make fancy food on Tuesdays. On the other days I made food it didn't matter so much, but Tuesday dinner was my way of thanking her for healing me, and apologizing for the pain it caused her. It was a bittersweet thing.

Just as with every Tuesday night when she returned back from work a small smile graced her face at the sight of the food set on the table, and I felt guilt build in myself for the pain I was causing her. She never complained, and she insisted that she was growing a resistance with time, but that didn't make me feel any better.

I had made a simple lasagna with an extra layer of meat, and she relished it; I had learned over time that she loved meat. I wasn't surprised, because of our fast metabolism, but I made sure to add it to meals whenever possible

Aside from the meal there wasn't anything fancy, and I remembered from vague memories in my mind that on similar occasions with women I'd take them to fancy restaurants with candles on the table, but she didn't seem to mind the lack of candles, and as we began to eat she gave me another quick smile.

"This is really good. Where did you get the recipe?" I hadn't wanted to waste money on getting a cookbook, considering it was technically her money I'd be spending, so to get recipes that May herself didn't show me I was going to the library and either renting a book or looking it up on the computer there.

"I got a book from the library." She nodded, then there was silence as we continued eating. She had explained to me once that when silence stretches out too long people often try to make 'small talk', but I usually found the silence to be easy with her. It wasn't awkward like it tended to be before HYDRA, it wasn't forced like it was with HYDRA – it was simply silence. Still, for her, I decided to make an effort.

"How was work?" Her eyes snapped up to me from where they had wandered somewhere to our left.

"It was good. Mimi said I should date the new employee, but I reminded her that we don't know each other at all." I raised an eyebrow at her in surprise. For people her age dating was supposed to be a natural thing, but an unusual knot formed somewhere near my stomach when I thought of someone taking her on a date. I decided to ignore the feeling as she continued to speak.

"What did you do all day?" I thought of my secret spying on her and immediately decided not to mention that bit to her.

"I scoped around the area for quick escape routes and possible safety houses. And the library." She nodded, since this is what I've been doing for the last long while, then stood up with her empty plate, gathering the empty lasagna pan as well.

"You should show me around some time. I'm sure you know the place better than I do by now." I nodded, taking the dishes from her so she wouldn't try to clean them herself, then set about cleaning the kitchen while she made her way over to her armchair and picked up a book.

She was currently reading a textbook on memory loss, hoping it might give her ideas on how to better go about healing my mind. I hadn't told her of the stress building in my mind, but she seemed to know. She explained to me once that she can vaguely sense more than just physical pain, but mental pains as well. When she had escaped from HYDRA they had been working to develop that part of her ability more, but she confessed that she was happy they hadn't. In large crowds the constant need to take people's pains away – both mental and physical – was already overbearing. She didn't want to imagine how much worse it would be if they had developed it any more.

And I had to agree with her, not only because it would cause her even more problems, but feeling what's going on inside of other's minds is as close as one could get to reading one's mind, and the thought of someone knowing my mind that well unnerved me: she was healing my mind, but that didn't mean I wanted her in it.

…

That night I didn't have nightmares of my time at HYDRA, and I didn't dream new memories, either. I dreamed of May. First it was normal; we were going about the daily routine that we had developed, but then, somehow, we were surrounded by HYDRA, and I couldn't do anything about it. I was being held down by something – whether a new device HYDRA had come up with or by my own mind, I didn't know – and I watched helplessly as May fought hopelessly against the dozens of agents; I watched as she was finally overpowered and taken away. Taken away from _me,_ and the agents disappeared as well until there was only one left facing me. He put his hand up to the com in his ear as he received an instruction, then raised the gun in his hand until it was level with my head and pulled the trigger.

I woke up with arms holding my own down, and fear filled my mind because _they had gotten May_ and I lashed out at the body trying to stop my own from moving, and I listened as the person was thrown across the room before hitting the wall with a solid thud.

I slid from my bed before the person had even hit the ground, approaching quickly to torture May's location from her – because I knew from the person's groan that it was a female – and suddenly she began speaking.

"Bucky, Bucky, calm down. It's me." Panic crept up in me because if she knew my name then she had to be HYDRA, and they really did have her back. "Soldier, look at me." Quick as a whip I had her shoulders in my grasp and raised her up before shoving her into the ground. Her head cracked harshly against the wood, and I felt grim satisfaction at her noise of pain.

"Where is she?!" She didn't say anything, so I raised her up to slam her against the ground again, but her hand came up quickly and struck me across the face.

"James Buchanan Barnes, look at me _right now!"_ And the desperation mixed in with the fear in her voice made something in my mind snap and I was back in reality, no longer in my dream, and I realized what I had just done.

I released her shoulders quickly, and since I'd had her suspended from the floor she fell back down and I winced at the thud. She groaned, raising her hands to grip the spot which no doubt had a major bruise, and I registered for a moment that inflicting head trauma on her so soon after my healing session can't have been good for her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I can't keep doing this. I can't keep hurting her with everything she's already doing to help. I can't…

And then I realized that I was saying all of that out loud, and she had risen up from the ground and pulled my head into her shoulder and was trying to soothe me with calm words. Worst of all, though, I realized that my face was wet, and I was honestly surprised because I hadn't cried in nearly a century, and I had no idea why I even was.

"It's okay," she soothed. "Things will get better. The memories won't be so bad forever. They'll have to get better." And that caused me to choke again because it hadn't been a memory, and things weren't okay.

"But it wasn't a memory. They got you, May. They got you and I couldn't do anything about it." Then she was shushing me and patting my head, as I'm sure my mother had done before plenty of times.

"As long as you keep protecting me HYDRA won't get me. And if we keep laying low they won't be able to find us. Right now, Bucky, we're fine. I'm here, you're here, and HYDRA's not."

We stayed like that until my breathing slowed back down to a normal pace, then we stayed a bit longer, too, and I didn't want her to go because I was afraid that as soon as she left she'd be gone. That she simply wouldn't be there in the morning, and I'd be alone. She must have understood my need because before I knew it she had stood up, guiding me up with her, and led me over to the bed. I wasn't at all worried about her intentions because just earlier she had declined dating someone because she didn't know him well enough. Because she had been born in the early 20th century, and because she kept eye contact with me, making sure I was okay with this.

I didn't say anything, and we crawled into the bed, her pulling the blanket over us, still keeping eye contact.

"I'm not going anywhere," she told me, trying to drive the point across, and I draped my metal arm over her as my own assurance, equally as cautious as her, worried that she'd be disturbed by my prosthetic, but she didn't show any reaction so I slowly relaxed

"I was scared," I finally admitted, and she didn't say anything, so I continued. "Because I knew they'd hurt you. And because I don't want to be alone. I just…I don't want to be alone." And she gave me a look that was so understanding that curiosity coursed through me at once. Who was this girl that she could empathize with everything I'd suffered? Who could be so nice even to a person like me?

She finally broke eye contact, shifting closer to me to snuggle into my chest, and I wrapped my arm even tighter around her like I had when holding her while she recovered from the healing session, and I understood her unspoken message.

 _I'm not going anywhere._

…

Aww…wasn't that so cute? Now do you understand why I like this chapter so much? Make sure to review on the things you liked and also the things you think need improved on. I'm also open for suggestions on what'll go on later in the story, and please! Boy help!


	12. A Car Drive

**Lara Barnes:** Thanks for reviewing so much! Yes, the last chapter was super majorly cute, and I'm glad you liked it. And Bucky does care for May! It's only just beginning to show, and he's only just beginning to feel things toward her, but it's definitely there. Ah! I wish I had more time to write, because I'm just as excited for this chapter as you guys! (Sometimes I almost forget that I'm the author, and not just a reader.)

 **IsoldeAhlstrom:** I'm really glad you're liking this so much! And thank you! I'm glad you like my writing. Actually, I've considered writing my own original works, but basing my writing off of something else is a lot more fun (at the moment). Thanks for reviewing!

 **aandm20:** Haha! Thanks for your review, and I totally agree! So I was looking at your profile pic, and it's so cute and sad, and I got the most irrational urge to go hug a cactus. Before I realized that it was ridiculous, but still, it made me think. Poor cactus.

 **Astral Kai:** Hello! I was wondering where you'd gone (briefly crossed my mind that you might be sick of me already), so I'm glad you remembered, too! And yes, I've been rushing my writing lately (actually, ever since the semester started), so I haven't been as careful as I normally am. Sorry, it's so bad that you've noticed. If it ever gets to the point where it's inexcusable, just tell me, and I'll get on top of that beta thing. Otherwise, I'm just trying to make sure I post ever week :) Good luck with making an account. I believe in you! You're welcome for writing that chapter, by the way! I did both of us a service, believe me! I've had that chapter in mind pretty much since I began writing No One, and it's been killing me to wait! And you'll be happy to hear that this chapter is Bucky's POV, and probably the next chapter, too. And no, I don't think there's any HYDRA any time soon. Though I could just be saying that to catch you off guard. I guess you never really know ;) As for my boy problems, yeah. They kinda suck. It's been going on for about 3 years now, and at first it was cute, but it's gotten old and creepy. He likes to think we're friends, but I'm really nitpicky on who I call friends, so I've never considered us to be friends. I have helped him get through a few rough patches, though, and that might be where this 'obsession' had come from. And I really like what you said, that I'm not obligated to like or love him in any way, because that made me realize that I'm not, and I'm going to tell him that when I talk to him again tomorrow (no, it's not an arranged marriage. My parents like him even less – if that's possible – than I do). Thanks so much for the help! I'm actually only 17, so if he doesn't drop these notions my parents are planning on getting a restraining order, though I hope it doesn't come to that. And you take care, too. Thanks for all of the reviews! I love getting your reviews!

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! You should post this much every week! JK, I just love it when you review (but seriously, the more reviews the happier I am). And I'm really glad you guys liked the last chapter, and I hope you guys like this one, too. (I figured it was about time Bucky learned a bit more about May, because we all know her pretty well while he's been left in the dark.)

I'm planning on talking to the guy I mentioned in the last chapter's AN again tomorrow – to try again to make him leave me alone – so if any of you have any advice on what to do or say, I still appreciate it. And thanks so much to Astral Kai for the advice! It's really helped, and I'm hoping he'll take me seriously this time.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my OC's and my plot.**

Chapter 12

A Car Drive

(And Confessions)

Bucky's POV

The thing about being an assassin, is you're constantly taking other's lives. And you get so immersed in taking other's lives that you forget that you've lost your life as well, but you're still alive.

Once an assassin has gotten to the point where he's no longer alive, it becomes easier to kill, because you no longer remember what it is you're taking from your victims. In HYDRA's case, they just took my life from me straight away, turning me into the perfect assassin.

The thing about life, though, is that it's really not just about being alive. An assassin may be alive, but he no longer knows how to live.

…

The next morning I woke up reluctantly for our workout, finding that I was surprisingly comfortable holding the slight form in my arms, gazing down at her as she slept. Then her eyes opened and met my own. She gave me a sleepy smile, then sat up. I followed slower, wishing we could just forget life for the day and stay cuddled in the bed, but reality called and I had to get out of the bed so she could as well.

As she slipped out of the room to change into her workout clothes, I looked at the wall next to the door where I had slammed her the night before, and I noticed the new hair thin cracks that had joined the original ones. The same guilt from the night before flooded me, and suddenly I needed to see the damage I'd done to her – whether to see just how bad it was or to punish myself for attacking her once again, I'm not entirely sure – so I followed after her.

What I saw, though, was more than I had bargained for. I had opened her door without knocking – something she scolded me for every week when I came for the healing session – and her bare back sported a large black bruise, as I had suspected. But as she pulled on her workout shirt I saw scars – so many scars – crisscrossing her skin, layered on top of each other, interrupted only by her bra strap, and I shut the door silently just as quickly as I had opened it.

The image was seared on my eyelids as I changed into my own workout clothes, and I felt curiosity run through me once again, this time almost unbearable, and I had to remind myself that she was trusting me not to look her up.

While we worked out we tried to talk, since we'd found it helps with the memories that often came back to us during the sessions, and in my case I hoped it would make me less likely to attack her if any of the memories that came back were too intense. One of today's topic surprised me.

"I was thinking," she said as she dodged a punch sent her way and sent one back at me. "That you were born in Brooklyn, right?" She didn't wait for an answer as she swiped her leg at my own in a low swipe. "So maybe we could go there and see what things are like now. Visit landmarks and stuff." I retaliated her swipe with a lunge and tackled her to the ground, raising my fist as if to show her I could kill her, but she already knew because she immediately stopped fighting; a signal of peace, but I could still feel her muscles coiled in case she needed to get away from me. I lowered my fist to show her I was still myself and she relaxed.

"Sounds good," I said, standing up and pulling her up after me. She shot me a look, then her face turned hesitant as she added to her idea.

"Maybe we could visit your family, too." It took me a moment to realize what she was suggesting and I immediately went still, because it hadn't even occurred to me that they were still there. In a cemetery.

She caught my hesitance and misinterpreted it.

"Sorry. It was a bad idea. It's not my place to pry." I shook my head immediately.

"No, I think it's a great idea. I just hadn't thought of it. I was surprised." She shot me a smile and I sent one at her as well, visibly shocking her. She cocked her head slightly to the side and my smile quickly turned to a smirk in the personality I'd forgotten.

"Like what you see?" And then my smirk fell to a frown because I had no idea where that came from.

"I don't know what that was," I explained. She gave me a smirk of her own as we grabbed our water bottles and headed back to the apartment as people began showing up.

"That was Bucky," she answered simply.

…

That weekend May called in sick on Friday and Saturday – she explained that her boss liked her so it wasn't a problem – and we took off for Brooklyn. It was about the time I was rolling up clothes and stuffing them into my newly purchased black backpack that the nervousness set in.

What if I wasn't ready for this? What if I had flashbacks and attacked May again? What if HYDRA found us? I slowly talked myself through my worries, but the nervousness remained.

I exited my room and found May stuffing a large wad of cash in her backpack, as well as her fake I.D. and she caught my look.

"For food," she explained. Oh, right. Food had completely slipped my mind. Usually when I traveled food wasn't a problem. Either it was short enough of a mission that food wasn't necessary, or I simply went without food for a few days since it really wasn't a problem for me.

Then she shouldered her backpack and the nervousness came back full force. She pulled out the keys to the car we had rented ("No, we can't hotwire another car, Bucky.") and her eyes softened when she spotted the look on my face which no one else would've been able to read, but to her I seemed to be an open book.

"If it's too much when we get there we'll leave. That's it. I'm not going to force you to do this." I nodded, and we left the apartment, locking it behind us, and our journey began.

…

The car she found for rent was actually a rather decent car, and it hadn't cost much, either, so I didn't mind it much that she had once again disregarded my idea for her own, because hers had ended up being the better idea anyway.

"I did some research on which cemetery your family is at and found that you actually have a grave, too. I guess it makes sense because everyone did think you were dead." I found the thought rather odd, of going to my own grave, but most of what's happened in the last long time was rather odd and didn't make sense, so I just added it to the list.

"What about you?" I asked her and she looked at me out of the side of her eye before turning her eyes back to the road – she was driving because she was technically the only one with a driver's license. Even though we both knew how to drive, it was still illegal for me to, and apparently that mattered to her (I'd had to restrain myself from pointing out that her I.D. was fake, and that was illegal, too.)

"What about me?" I couldn't tell if she was dodging the question or if she really didn't understand. I considered her low conversational skills and decided she really just hadn't understood what I was asking.

"Do you have a grave? Maybe next we should visit your family's graves." An unbelievably sad look crossed her face and I wondered what I had done wrong.

"No, I don't have a grave. Neither does my family." A dark look crossed her face and she muttered something more. "At least none of the people who matter." I wondered whether to press or not, but once again she read me and sighed.

"Sorry. I lived on the streets when I was taken by HYDRA, and there wasn't anyone to miss me, really, so I was just forgotten. My mother died in an accident at the mill she worked at, and my brother's body was probably never found. My father left my family for the war, so I'm not interested in visiting him, and my Uncle could've rotted in the gutters for all I care." I saw a dark tint in her eyes, but it wasn't the look I had begun to associate with the insanity she claimed laid just outside of her mind, but more of what looked like deep anger. The anger one feels before killing someone; revenge. It was the first time I had seen such a dark look on her face, and I didn't like it.

She let out a long breath and the glint faded somewhat from her eyes.

"But that's really not important right now. We're going to go visit your family, not mine, and I'm fine with that. Maybe after we can even stop at the Smithsonian where there's an exhibit just for Captain America. Maybe you'll be mentioned a few times." She changed the topic quickly, but I didn't want to switch topics yet; this was the first time she had really spoken of her past, and I felt I was at a large disadvantage because she seemed to know much more about me than I knew about her.

"Tell me more," I requested. Her shoulders slumped just a bit and I could feel the protest forming in her mouth, so I continued quickly.

"Where were you born?" she didn't seem to mind this question as much as the last one.

"I was born in Pennsylvania. We were known for our wide expanse of mills and factories, so there was a lot of smog, but I never traveled so I didn't know any different. I thought the air was just thick and dirty everywhere. But it was home." I thought about that for a second. It made sense, because travelling was a lot harder back then than it is now, and the U.S. was still new; the people were still learning how to be a good country while still staying on its own two feet financially, so there were factories everywhere polluting the air. Even with that logic, though, something inside of me ached to think of a young girl on her own in the dirty streets with no family, trying to stay alive only to be taken by HYDRA.

"What about you? What was it like in Brooklyn?" That made me think, because I was still only just regaining memories of my home place.

"Things were good, I think. The great depression was hard on my family, and we went without food quite a few times, but after that things were fine. The streets were dirty, but it was easily enough looked over. And the air was dirty, too, but I don't think it was as bad as in Pennsylvania." She nodded, now having a good picture painted in her mind. A question nagging at the back of my mind since her explanation of her family made itself known, though, so I asked it.

"What happened to your brother?" She had said his body probably hadn't been found, which immediately made me assume the worst, but I didn't want to believe she had gone through that as well. She swallowed thickly and I was afraid she wouldn't answer and shut herself off from me, but after a moment she broke the silence.

"My Uncle – Uncle George – was a drunk. I was at the mills all day, and so I was gone until long after Tommy had gotten home from school, and that left him alone with Uncle George for a bit every day. He was a violent man, too, when he was drunk." I didn't like where this story was going, but she seemed to like it even less. "And when I got home one day Tommy wasn't in his bed like he usually was – he was good about his bed time because it kept him away from Uncle George. And instead of Little Tommy there was blood," at this she choked, but she quickly forced it down. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Only she wasn't fine.

"There was a lot of blood, and it looked almost like is body was – like his body had been _dragged…_ " she choked again and I panicked, because she seemed to be hyperventilating.

"Pull over," I commanded, and it was proof of how shaken she was because she immediately obeyed, flipping the hazards on before nearly jumping out of the car. I followed quickly to find her pacing and running her hands through her hair, muttering to herself as her breathing quickened, and it took me a second to realize she was still talking to me.

"And it's _all my fault,_ because if I'd been there I could've helped him. I could've protected him, or healed him. I _should've_ protected him. I should've taken him away from there as soon as Uncle George brought us." I tried to stop her from moving; I grabbed her arms and held her in place, but then she was yelling at me, her chest heaving with the quick breaths she was taking.

"It's my fault, don't you see?! It's my fault! He shouldn't have died, _it should've been me!_ " Then the energy seemed to drain out of her and her legs gave out, and she was being held up by me, so I gently lowered us to the ground. And she continued talking, only softer now.

"You should've met him, Bucky. He was the cutest little thing. He could've taken over the world and destroyed it, but no one would care because he'd be smiling at us the whole time." She let out a defeated little laugh that broke my heart. "He used to get me in trouble all the time, too, because he looked so innocent. Whenever he did anything wrong people always assumed it was me, but he was so good that he hardly ever did anything wrong, anyway. He got good grades in all of his classes, and it was probably only because the teacher didn't want to give him bad grades on anything because it was so heartbreaking to see him cry. And he'd always say that when he grew up he wanted to be just like me, because by then mother wasn't our mother anymore. _I_ was his mother. He called me his Emmy Mommy, because I wouldn't let him call me Mother in case mother caught him and got mad." I pulled her head to rest against my shoulder similar to what she had done with me after my nightmare, but instead of putting her forehead to my shoulder I simply had her rest against it so I could still see her face, so I was able to watch as her face crumpled and she tried in vain to keep the tears in her eyes.

"He wanted to travel someday. He wanted to leave Pennsylvania, and in his prayers at night he told me he prayed that he could get me out of the mills. He wanted to be a hero like Captain America and get rid of bad guys like Uncle George. But he didn't do any of that because I let him get killed. I was his Emmy Mommy, and I let him get hurt. I let him die." I shushed her, trying to get her breathing to slow down so she wouldn't pass out and I wondered at the pain in her voice. How could someone suffer so much and still be so nice? The idea baffled me.

While she slowly calmed down I searched frantically for something comforting to say, as she had so easily said to me when I needed comforting, but that was a lot easier said than done, especially for an ex-assassin. As I formed my words and gathered my thoughts a question crossed my mind briefly, and I had to wonder just who was the more damaged of us two? Who was it really that should be healing the other?

"Your brother sounds like he loved you a lot," I finally said, trying not to give her any false assurances or fake promises, because then I'd lose her without a doubt. As it was, I could tell she was listening. "And I don't think he'd want you to blame yourself for your Uncle's wrongdoings. As far as I can tell from what I've heard, you weren't really in any position to do any more than you had. The world was harder back then, and you were young." She still didn't say anything, but her breathing was gradually evening out, so I continued. "What your Uncle did to you and your brother wasn't in any way acceptable, but if you had taken your brother onto the streets with you his chances of surviving would have gone down drastically, and he likely would've died a lot sooner." I realized what I had said was insensitive about the same time she tensed as if she were about to get up, so I quickly tried to recover from my slip up. "What I'm trying to say is that it's not your fault, and I don't think Tom would like it if you continued to beat yourself up about it." She relaxed once again, but after a moment pushed herself up, wiping the few tear tracks from her face.

"Thanks for that." She said shakily. "I haven't actually told anyone about that before, so it was…" she trailed off, searching for a word, but finally gave up. "Thank you."

We got back into the car, but this time I drove. I told her that if we were pulled over for any reason we'd just switch seats quickly and she'd act like she had been the one driving. As it was, she made me promise not to speed – too much – and gave me the directions she had printed from MapQuest on the computer at the library.

She immediately fell asleep after that, exhausted from the whole ordeal earlier, and I let myself study her as she curled up against the window, hugging the pillow she had brought for the drive. How could someone be as strong as her? How could anyone go through what she had and still come out smiling? And I found myself reasoning that even though Steve and I both had been given physical strength, the serum must've made her stronger mentally, because she was the strongest person I knew, and that included myself.

…

Have any of you watched _A Brilliant Young Mind_? (Called _X+Y_ in the UK). I just watched it the other night, and it's so cute! And heartbreaking and sad and adorable and ohmygosh! If you're into movies like that, I really advise watching it. It's super adorable, and I felt I personally could relate quite a bit with the main character, because a few people in my family have developmental disorders, so it wasn't a foreign concept to me, but it was absolutely amazing. Make sure to review if you agree!


	13. Lost Opportunities

**Astral Kai:** I'm glad you're not sick of me! My reviewers usually go through a cycle, where I've got a few who're really great reviewers, then they randomly stop, and then I get new great reviewers. You're currently my best reviewer :) I honestly can't decide whether you're 19, or 16. I know, those are odd ages, but those are the only ages I can place you as. Maybe 18? I give up! How old are you? (If you don't mind). And I finally dealt with that guy! I just wouldn't let him get any other answer in, and I wouldn't let him sidetrack, and I made it very clear that I only want to be friends (I made this clear quite a few times, actually) and I think it's finally over! I feel so free! And no, they didn't go to the graves in the last chapter, but they do in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy the beautiful sadness. I mean the chapter; I hope you like the chapter…heh. May's back doesn't get brought up again for a while, but I just wanted to keep you all on your toes for when it does come up again. And hey, for the beta offer, I think that's great! Once you make your account just PM me and we'll keep in touch. Those stories you edited for your friend, are they by any chance fanfics? If so, I'd like to take a look at them to see your style of editing. If not, I guess I'll just find out, won't I. By this point, anything helps, so I'm willing to give it a shot. I have to warn you though, you'll have to be ready to get these chapters earlier than anyone else. Think you can handle that? ;) Thanks for the offer!

Happy Halloween! I'm actually planning on having a Halloween chapter in here later on. Unfortunately, we won't have it for another while, but whatever. Better late than never, right? I led a violin group class today, and everyone's supposed to dress up, but I couldn't decide what to dress up as. So I went in casual clothes and said I was a werewolf. And it's not the full moon. Ha! Well, as it's a holiday, I've got another holiday deal for you guys.

 **Holiday Deal – Don't Go Past This – I've Got Pie! – Warning**

If by this Wednesday, November 2nd, Breaking the Ice has a total of 40 reviews (Only 5 more – just say what your costume is) I'll post another chapter, on top of my weekly chapter. **Furthermore!** If on Thursday, November 3rd, Breaking the Ice has a total of 35 favorites (that's only 4 more) I'll give you another chapter as well, even if you don't hit the review requirement.

You guys don't really take my offers seriously, it seems, so this time I gave you two chances. So make sure to review or favorite the story, and you could get a total of 3 new chapters next week!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but any OC's and my plot.**

Chapter 13

Lost Opportunities

(Are Always Followed By New Opportunities)

Bucky's POV

"What's air?" Rosie had once asked me, completely out of the blue. Of course, I knew the technical and scientific answer to that question, but my answer was one she wouldn't even remotely understand, so I quickly simplified it for the little girl.

"It's something you can't see, but we need it so we can live." She didn't look completely satisfied with that answer, and I dreaded the inevitable _"Why?"_ that usually followed any topic of conversation with the girl. Instead, though, she got a satisfied look on her face, and something completely unexpected came from her that left me thinking for days.

"That's what Ma says about love."

…

The drive to Brooklyn was long. We had both opted out of driving through D.C., which already lengthened the drive, and the traffic was horrible. It's a good thing May had thought to bring money, because the tolls were ridiculous. May and I ended up switching many times so I didn't get frustrated with the traffic and end up punching a hole in the windshield, or something. She didn't mind, though. Our talk was light, both of us avoiding the topic of what had happened earlier. She seemed happier in a sense, though, and I figured that the psychology book she had read was right; talking does help.

As it was, by the time we finally made it to Brooklyn it was getting dark, so we rented a room at a cheap motel, paying for two nights so we could take all of tomorrow to look around. May had brought a map along with us, so while I showered she wrote down the directions on how to get from here to the cemetery so we wouldn't have to bother with the map while in the car. When I finished she immediately sent me a deadpan look, making me pause.

"We should invest in a laptop," she said. I raised my eyebrows, a corner of my mouth lifting in amusement. I didn't say anything, though, simply moving aside as she entered the bathroom herself.

While rubbing the towel through my hair to dry it I took a look at her neat directions written on a lined piece of paper, committing them to memory for the next day. Seeing just how close we were to the graves made my stomach tie up in knots, but I pushed the feeling down and instead focused on the sound of the water running, listening to the irregularities of its pattern as May moved around. Then my eyebrows shot up in surprise because I realized she was humming softly to herself. I listened, separating her voice from the running water, and simply listened. It was a simple tune – probably a lullaby of sorts – and I let it ease the knot in my stomach.

It cut off too soon as she shut the water off, and I had to fight the disappointment that rose up in me. I quickly told myself I was being ridiculous, sitting down on my bed a minute before she exited holding her pile of folded clothes as she was now in her pajamas. With her long hair she would put it up in a bun after showers, but with her hair short she simply pulled as much of it out of her face as she could, ending with a half-up.

Now that I knew her Tshirt was covering a whole arsenal of scars I could now spot some peeking out from past her shirt – the tips of some scars coming up the back of her neck and some peeking out from under her long sleeves. I spotted a rather large one extending quite a bit past one of her sleeves – nearly meeting the crease of her elbow – and wondered in amazement how I had possibly missed that before.

"Should we go look at landmarks first or visit the graves?" she asked. I snapped myself out of my thoughts, eyes snapping up to her face from the scar on her arm.

"The graves," I said easily. Better to get it out of the way so it wasn't eating at me all day. She nodded, then crawled into her bed. I took up the role I'd had when we had been living in motels and went over to the light, glancing at her turned form before shutting the light off and making my way over to my own bed. Unlike the times before, where I'd wait awake until she fell asleep, I let myself be lulled to sleep by the sound of her breathing.

…

We woke up early in the morning and we took off with some money for food and the sheet of directions, both of our cellphones stuck in our pockets in case we had to separate for any reason. Since it was early in the morning there was still plenty of traffic, but not nearly as much as there would have been if it was later in the day. So the drive there wasn't nearly as long as I would have like it to be so I could organize my scrambled thoughts.

The place was in better shape than I expected it to be, but the graves themselves showed the signs of time passed. Weather had smoothed down the sharp edges of my parent's graves and spider thin cracks decorated the stone.

My gaze shifted from my parent's names to my own name in the grave next to theirs. My gravestone was nicer, as it had been provided by the army, but the weather had taken its toll on it as well.

I felt a kind of sick irony in visiting my own grave, but the humor was choked by darker thoughts.

"He did die that day," I spoke to the grave, but my words were addressed to the woman standing silently beside me. She understood my words and stepped past me to rest her hand on the gray stone. She stood like that for a moment before turning her head back at me.

"And you were born when HYDRA took you?" I nodded, a dark mood creeping up at me with the mention of HYDRA. She stepped back from the stone to my side, shooting a mischievous look up at me, surprising me.

"Well then, Bucky, I'm afraid I'm quite a bit older than you." A startled chuckle forced its way up my throat, and I appreciated her humor in such a sad place.

"Time has treated you well," I retorted. She smiled back up at me and quirked her head to the side, completing the look.

"You're not doing so bad yourself." We both laughed at the exchange before calming quickly. She looked back at my grave.

"I don't think he died; I think he went to sleep. But you're safe now, so he's trying to wake up." I regarded her solemnly, considering her words.

"I'm never going to be him, May. I've changed." She looked back at me, too, giving me her deep stare that made me wonder if she could see my soul.

"It's been a long time, Bucky. I'd be worried if you hadn't changed." The acceptance I felt right then drew me closer to her, and we walked close as we wandered the cemetery, drawing from each other's heat in the chilly morning air.

May had done research on my family prior to coming, and had found that in addition to a sister I'd also had two younger brothers. All three had married and had families of their own, so my grave was the only one next to my parent's.

I didn't remember much about either of my brothers, so we lingered longest at Rosie's grave. I remembered more about her, but it was still only a small amount. I remembered that since she was the only girl of the kids she'd been fiercely over-protected, and spoiled at every holiday. No one dared pick on her at school because of her three older brothers, and because of this she'd kept her innocent outlook on life a lot longer than many would.

I was happy to see that she had continued her life without me, and I looked at the graves of her children and grandchildren, the weight of the life I had missed out on crashing down on me.

A soft touch on my arm shook me from those thoughts, and I registered May's hand grabbing my elbow softly.

"We should go," she said quietly, and I followed her without a word, caught up in what ifs.

As soon as we stepped out of the cemetery the air seemed lighter and the day brighter, but we didn't stop; May continued to lead me until we had reached the car.

"We should go eat." I looked down at the clock set in the car, realizing that we had spent hours at the cemetery and it was already noon. The ride was spent in silence, only breaking when May ordered for the two of us at a drive thru, and the two of us got odd looks when the woman handed us about five bags and a few drinks.

She parked in the parking lot so we could eat. I ate on autopilot, still stuck in my thoughts, until she finally broke the silence.

"Want to talk about it?" For the first time I nodded, hoping it would have the same effect on me as it seemed to have on her.

"I was thinking," I started. "Of what things might've been like if it wasn't for HYDRA." _If I hadn't fallen off the train._ She nodded, putting a fry in her mouth as she waited for me to continue. "All those people – my sister's family – I could've gotten to know them. I would've been an uncle. I might've even had a family of my own. Or maybe I would've died in the war anyways, just later. But maybe HYDRA wouldn't have gotten me." After that I stuffed a bite of burger in my mouth, ready to be done with the subject. After a moment she broke that silence, though.

"What HYDRA did to us was awful," she said absentmindedly, staring at something unseen. "But I'm glad I met you." I blinked at her, then she got the mischievous look again. "Even if we did try to kill each other a couple times." And there must've been something in the burgers, because at that moment I wanted to do nothing more than lean over and kiss her.

…

Ooh, does he kiss her or not? I guess you'll have to make sure to review so you can find out. So hopefully I'll see you soon!


	14. Everything's Big In Brooklyn

**JLBriggs:** Aww, that's so cute. Where the Wild Things Are was my absolute favorite book growing up, and I'm glad to see that it hasn't been forgotten :) :) And I'll definitely take your 'second' favorite into consideration on Thursday! Thanks for taking my challenges seriously, too!

 **IsoldeAhlstrom:** So sorry, I don't have them kiss. Yet. But they do become a couple, I promise! You'll just have to bear with me for a while. I see their relationship going upward from here, so hopefully it won't be too long. Medieval costumes were a big hit where I'm from, surprisingly. I don't think I've seen so many medieval costumes at once in quite a while, and I'm beginning to wonder if I missed something…? Did a new TV show come out or something? Then again, there may just be a come back. Either way, nice costume!

 **Astral Kai:** You're definitely my best reviewer currently! Your weekly reviews are something I've almost come to expect whenever I post a chapter, and when I do get it I, too, do an odd little happy dance. I think I've given my dogs a few heart attacks…any reviews make me do a happy dance, actually, but yours is a special little happy dance because you post every week :) And OMG 15?! Dang! I never would've guessed! So you're right in middle of High School. No wonder you always seem so busy…My sister is currently the first person in my house to go to High School (the rest of us were homeschooled up until college), and I have no idea how you guys do it. So what May meant by "quite a bit older" than Bucky, is –quick sidetrack – early on in No One I mentioned how she was about 7 years old when Steve 'died', which means she was about 6-7 when Bucky died, and since 'Bucky' died when he fell of that train, and 'Winter Soldier' was born when he was brought to HYDRA, that would place May 6-7 years older than Winter Soldier, rather than 6-7 years younger (though it's a bit more complicated now with the whole cryofreeze thing). Does that make sense? The favorite button, I think, only appears for people with their own profile. So until you make your own profile you won't be able to favorite, unfortunately. It's one of the many perks of having your own profile ;) And if you could send a one-shot to me, that would be great! Anime is fine. I only know a few of them, so if it's not one I recognize I'll just look it up really quick. No biggy. I mainly just want to see your editing style. And yeah! I look forward to working with you! I feel bad for all of you who don't celebrate Halloween. I mean sure, there's really not that much of a point, and it's way over commercialized in America (like all holidays) but hey, who can say no to free candy? But yeah, a medieval maiden dress is nice. **IsoldeAhlstrom** dressed up as a medieval maiden, too. (Which brings me back to wondering if I missed a new TV show, or something…?)

 **Lara Barnes:** The are adorable, I completely agree! Unfortunately, I've decided to torture you guys a bit longer and hold off their kiss for another time. Sorry! And thanks for reviewing!

 **Mayoslack:** Thanks for your concern with my 'boy problem'! Everything's actually turned out okay, and I'm doing perfectly fine, fortunately. All the advice you gave me has actually been told to me many times, all by different people, and it worked! I did all of the above, and for the moment he's leaving me alone. Key words being "for the moment". While I do hope he's gone for good, I know better than that, so I'm just dreading the day he decides I wasn't being serious. Ugh. Oh, sorry about all the rude people your encounter in your line of work. As you say, life isn't easy, and the people who go around dragging others down just make it harder. Good luck, and thanks for all the advice! And I agree, I really like how this story's coming along so far, and how the characters are developing. As for Little Tommy, yeah, I just about died writing the car scene, because I know that if I wasn't there for one of my siblings when they needed me, I'd simply die. Little brothers are a big pain, I agree! But I know I'd do anything for him (even if I'm his least favorite person in the world at the moment).

Sorry guys, I tricked you. Trick or treat? Yeah. Honestly, I had no intention of having them kiss yet. In fact, at first I didn't even have it ending in a cliffhanger, but I read somewhere that to get people to review I should give them incentive. So that resulted in a cliffhanger! I feel like an awful person…anyway, please forgive me. They do end up together, though! I promise! I just feel like they're not really ready to get into a relationship, yet, is all. If you all feel strongly differently, though, I'm sure I can figure something out. Make sure to tell me, or I'm going to keep writing it how I currently am. So to sum up my rambling, no, they didn't kiss. Yet. Happy Belated Halloween!

Chapter 14

Everything's Big In Brooklyn

(And Lots of Happy Faces)

During my time with HYDRA I came to know the scientists well. Not because they told me about themselves – they hardly ever talked to me – but because of the way they experimented on me. I could tell by the slice of a scalpel the personality of the scientist, after a while of training I could determine easily how their week was going by how much the pushed me in the gym, and I could almost see their families in the ways they tested my abilities. Through these evaluations of mine I was able to pick favorites between the scientists. One of the scientists was a man, who I decided only had daughters – because he always pitied me more than the others. It was this man who had me try endlessly to heal mental illnesses and other similar problems, the most common one being autism, and further determined that one of his daughters had autism. It really was a shame when I was frozen for a long period of time and was brought out to find that he no longer worked with HYDRA. For a long time I'd find myself wondering what had happened to him and his daughters during the empty time in My Room, and though it doesn't happen as often ever since I escaped from HYDRA, I still find myself wondering about him occasionally.

…

After eating we drove around and looked at landmarks all around the area, using the little tour pamphlet thing I had printed off of the internet back in Raleigh. I didn't want to visit any museums so we weren't too museumed-out by the time we got to D.C., but there were plenty of other places to go. Like a bridge. A big bridge.

"How long do you think it took them to build that?" I asked him, leaning against the hood of the car, staring out at the large amounts of water and the giant Brooklyn Bridge going across it.

"I don't know." His answer was brief, but the pamphlet hadn't said much about it, so I continued to press for more information.

"Do you remember it from when you lived here?" He squinted against the sun, thinking – remembering – and answered after a moment.

"I think so. There are a lot of bridges here."

"Yeah, but that's a _big_ bridge." And our conversation continued on mindlessly as the sun continued to dip further toward the horizon.

We had already visited a few places – botanic gardens, parks, large buildings – and tried out some of the giant hot dogs which Bucky typically ate half a dozen of. The most memorable had to have been Coney Island, though. We didn't ride any of the rides, not trusting ourselves not to freak out in such a small space being held down by a large seatbelt with lots of other people there, but we hadn't really needed to. Bucky had just wandered the place, recalling memories to me. He had gone here a lot, apparently, and Steve had often accompanied him.

It was interesting to hear the stories of the small Steve I had never met, and almost comical in a sad way to hear how sickly and tiny he used to be. I'd never paint the picture Bucky had described to me next to the picture of the man I knew. The only similarities between the two – aside from certain physical traits – were the honest heart and selfless attitude.

We had eventually had to leave, as we were attracting attention at just walking around for so long, and that's when we made our way to the Brooklyn Bridge Park, where we sat in a less populated area and just talked. It was nice, especially because until recently he hadn't talked very much.

Before stopping for dinner I made one last stop, crossing a bridge over to Manhattan, where I made my way over to the large building that had crossed my mind a few times during the day – the really tall building with an A on it.

Bucky shot a look at me as I stopped the car a bit away from Avengers Tower, so I explained myself.

"I did work with one for a while." And that was enough of a reason for me, but not for him, so I continued to explain as we began the walk over there.

"I just wanted to see it. You know, while we're here." And no one staying in the tower knew me anyway. From what the pamphlet said, only Mr. Stark and is CO stayed there, occasionally visited by the other Avengers, but the only Avenger I knew lived in D.C.

Once we got as close as we could while still able to see the whole building – so at the very edge of the property – I craned my neck back as far as I could, shielding my eyes from the light. The height alone gave me a slight sense of vertigo, and I wondered sickly how much worse it would be at the top.

Bucky looked up, too, and though his neck wasn't as bent back as mine was, it was the furthest I'd seen him look up, and I had to give Mr. Stark some credit; it's a very big building.

The crowd was thick, though, so I did one last sweep of the building then turned to head back to the car. As I turned, though, a person exiting a side door caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I whipped my head back around. By then the person had been swallowed up by the crowd, though, so I continued my earlier plan to get back to the car.

It must've been my imagination, but I could've sworn the blond haired man was Steve. I shook the thought from my head: he'd been on my mind, and that's why I thought it was him. I settled for that reason, but in the back of my head I couldn't help but continue wondering if I had seen right.

On our way back to the motel we stopped somewhere and grabbed dinner, this time sticking it in the back for when we got to the motel.

I was glad we didn't have to pass the front desk on our way up to the room, as the doors leading to the rooms were on the outside, because we no doubt would've raised red flags with how much food we were towing in.

"You up for the Smithsonian tomorrow?" I asked him after he finished showering, climbing under my blankets as I waited for him to shut the light off. He nodded, still looking unsure about whether he wanted to or not. I wasn't sure about it myself, as I wasn't even sure if he would be mentioned at all. It would be a good opportunity for him to catch up on Steve, in any case, so it appeared we would stop at the Smithsonian on our way back home.

…

Getting to the exhibit was a hassle. Traffic was bad, parking was bad, getting through security was bad – Bucky had to sneak in some other way because of his arm, and there's no way he didn't have any weapons on him – and the crowds were awful until we got to the exhibit, where it was only pleasantly packed.

I was surprised at how many things the museum was able to pull together for the exhibit. Random tidbits of Steve's life before the serum were portrayed on a wall, where Bucky stared intently at the videos of pre-serum Steve and pre-serum Bucky going about their daily lives. One black-and-white video showed the two leaving Bucky's house on a double date – though it appeared more like Bucky had two dates and Steve was just tagging along – and the two of us seemed equally surprised by the differences between then and now.

There were even more things for their time during the war, though. The suits of the Howling Commandos stood proudly on bright white mannequins, and I watched Bucky's face as he studied his own suit. No recognition flared, though, and we went to a clear glass piece where Bucky's biography was given, as well as a portrait. Despite the disguise he wore, the similarities between the picture and the man beside me were shocking, if I knew what to look for, and yet so different at the same time. Bucky's eyes were darker – less innocent – then the picture Bucky.

He stared at the biography, so I went ahead and read it myself. Most of what was said I had already told him, but maybe hearing it from something else would make it more real for him.

He continued to stand there, so I wandered away from him after a few minutes, figuring he'd like some privacy (or however much he can get in a museum).

I found myself gazing at the pictures and videos of the smaller Steve. It was hard to believe that this was the man I had met. On one wall was a list of all his past ailments and I was shocked by the amount and the severity of the things there; I realized that without the serum Steve had been destined to die early – in fact I was rather amazed that he had even reached his age.

I came across a life size picture of him, switching from small Steve to big Steve on the screen. I stood in front of it, looking slightly up into the eyes of the small Steve, then having to tilt my head back to look in the eyes of the big Steve. The difference between the two was amazing.

"You're very short." I turned around to Bucky.

"You only just noticed?" He smirked at me, his gaze shifting from me to the pictures behind me.

"Your serum didn't change your appearance very much," he noted. I raised an eyebrow, considering he didn't have anything to compare modern me to.

"How would you know?" His eyes came back to me, giving me a once over, answering as if it was obvious.

"You're short." Then he turned around and walked back toward the entrance. I huffed, then hurried after him.

"Mine _was_ only an early prototype of the serum. It's surprising it even worked." I didn't know why I was arguing my point, but something didn't set well in me at having Bucky think I was small, which indirectly translated to weak. It usually doesn't matter to me what others think of me.

As we walked something caught my eye and I veered back toward the section that had Bucky's biography. It was a video explaining the friendship Steve and Bucky had always had. I was half aware of the man following behind me, watching the video with me, as I watched the scenes change. I watched Bucky smiling and laughing with Steve – both the small and the big – and my shoulders slumped a fraction.

"You look so happy," I breathed. He'd never been that happy with me. Probably never would be. Until a few months ago he hadn't even remembered I existed.

I continued to watch the video until it had finished, then turned back to the man behind me.

"We should go." Never mind that he had been trying to leave before I got distracted. We walked, but I was focused on the bruise that seemed to have formed on my heart.

"Do you want to meet him?" I asked him quietly, but he caught it.

"Steve?" He asked. I didn't answer, because there's no one else I would've been talking about. He thought about that for a second.

"Maybe someday." After that he snuck off to get out without going through security and I made my way back out, meeting up with him a couple blocks away.

…

Again, please don't hate me. Anyway, you guys are only 3 favorites away from getting another chapter tomorrow, so make sure to favorite!


	15. A Pumpkin-Flavored Holiday

**Guest:** Thanks for the review, and I'm really glad you're liking this! If there's anything you'd like to see happening in the future (or notice anything that needs fixed) please say something and I'll see what I can do!

 **IsoldeAhlstrom:** I wonder what memories it sparked, too…I guess we'll figure out together ;) And the medieval dresses have taken on a new light in my eyes. I may just have to follow your example next year. Simple and easy are things I like :)

 **JLBriggs:** Ha! Yeah, I soo considered bringing Steve into the picture more than I did, but decided against it. A big scene like that won't really fit into what I'm planning on having going on in Steve's story once I actually start writing it, so I very reluctantly had to give that up. But ha! That would've been fun.

 **Astral Kai:** Haha! I hate me too! JK. But seriously, sometimes it's so hard to stick to the outline I've made. I just have to keep reminding myself that you guys are counting on me making the storyline understandable. Actually, my mom tried sending me to high school once, but I was able to talk her out of it at the last second (she seemed to have this weird idea that I was _antisocial_. Okay, I kind of was, but I'm better about it now). Do you live in the US? I live in the US in one of the states with the worst educational system (it's literally right next to the bottom of the list) and it's very much apparent. I wish someone would just do something about it already, because this state has so much potential. Everyone's just too uneducated to realize it…so yeah, I'm equally happy I didn't end up having to go to high school. The dog tried to eat your _arm?_ What kind? I have two small dogs, but they're not puppies. One's an adorable little Chihuahua that I finally finished potty-training after four years (it's nearly impossible to train them, btw) and am currently trying to make him stop barking at everything. It's a work in progress. The other one's a mix, and he's not nearly as smart as my Chihuahua because my family rescued this one already full-grown, but he's still heart-achingly adorable (when he's not flat-out disobeying me). As for the dress, **IsoldeAhlstrom** pretty much just said they're awesome, and I'm very much inclined to agree, so no; no Halloween hype. As far as I'm concerned. Chronologically, Bucky's older. It's a bit complicated because of the differences between comics and the movie, but while looking into this in more detail I found out quite a few things about Bucky. So I read somewhere that Bucky was actually born in 1917, and I thought it was a lot later than that, so I have May born in 1938. Which means Bucky would actually technically be 21! Years older than her. But with the cryo blah, it's now only a few years of a gap. Gross! I never even realized! Blegh. I'm never going to see them the same. And wasn't Bucky so rude! It was great! I think that's a great example of how he's opening up to her. He never would've said that to anyone (likely wouldn't say anything at all) when they first set out. My baby's grown so fast :'( I'm mean, eh, there's lots of progress! *sniffle*. As for how tall he is, I've only found that he's 5'9", which fits nicely in this story, because then he's only 7" taller than may, and that's a bit less than a head. Kissing problem: solved. May will definitely be able to meet the whole gang someday (I'm planning on running this story through AoU as well – so that I can get to Civil War) and I don't think May was aware that Natasha was an Avenger, and when she left Sam hadn't really said anything about becoming an Avenger yet, so as far as she's aware, she only knows one Avenger. She'll find out soon enough, though. And by soon I mean not until AoU, so not so soon. Ooh, where'd you go on your trip? Anyplace fun? I want to travel, but I'm tied down by school :( Until Winter Break! I'll get on top of the anime research (how'd the account go?) And thanks for supporting my cliffhanger! It's actually my very first ever intentional cliffhanger. And it was fun. I'll have to do it more often. As for the dialogue, it's a bit difficult because the two of them hardly talk, and each chapter pretty much is narrated by whoever's POV it is, because most of everything goes on in their heads. If that makes sense. But as the story progresses, definitely, I'll make sure to integrate more in there (hopefully Mimi will be able to help with that. She seems to me like the talkative type).

I'll make the AN relatively short, since I've already written so much, but congratulations! You met one of the requirements! I hope you all enjoyed the extra chapter. So I was doing some research on Bucky in response to **Astral Kai** 's question, and guess what I found! Bucky's actually the eldest of 4 kids, so I had that down! I didn't even know (I must be psychic, or something). That's all it said, though, so I don't know genders or names or anything, but whatever. Yay! I'm happy! Now onto the story.

Brief warning to any who don't like religion-based anything, I do include a bit in here, since religion was such a prevalent thing during their times, so I marked the beginning and end of the somewhat-religious stuff with **. Feel free to skip over this part if you want, I'll include a summary of that part at the end for you.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than any OC's and my plot. Happy now?**

Chapter 15

A Pumpkin-Flavored Holiday

(And A Sunday Stroll)

Just as I had a favorite scientist, I also had a least favorite scientist. A large part of the reason I liked him least was because he looked very much like my father. Aside from that, he was a very mean man and a worse scientist. I was quick to decide that he lived alone with a failed family somewhere behind him in the past, because he never quite learned how to love, and his family was sure to pick up on that. He was as ruthless as he was mean, and would often have me train for hours after he had already made me pass my limit. Healing experiments were awful with him, and it's a good thing I had already decided not to make any more mistakes by the time I woke up form cryo to find him, or I wouldn't be surprised if he became one of the faceless people that haunt me at night.

It was a long time after he had stopped being a scientist for HYDRA that I realized why he was how he was. No doubt he had grown up in a family where love wasn't a thing, so he never learned how to have it himself, and that's why he failed at creating his own family. Then I realized that we were the same, and I secretly reveled in the fact that I was stronger than my tormentor, because while he had let his past tear him into someone no one wanted to love, I had learned to use my past to make me stronger.

…

Time passed quickly with work. Sometimes I worried that Bucky would get lonely with me working so often, but he seemed to enjoy the alone time, so I let the worry leave my mind.

My many hours payed the bills as well. We had to watch ourselves in everything else – food, supplies, things for the apartment – but we weren't struggling, and it was nice.

Nearly a month had passed since we went to Brooklyn and D.C. and Bucky seemed to be coping well. Nightmares came often and no matter what I tried to change in my method of healing him stress continued to build in his mind. I suspected that the stress had a lot to do with the frequent nightmares, but they weren't bad enough for me to grow concerned, yet. I usually just had to speak softly to him and he calmed down, and the few times I had to wake him up none of his reactions were as severe as the time he dreamed I had been taken away.

I could see someone else growing inside of him, too; someone old fashioned and more open, and yet he still firmly remained Bucky. He noticed the changes, too, and when he let something slip past him – like saying "doll" – he'd always get a surprised look. It was a nice change from the dark assassin I had first run away with.

At work we were already preparing for the holiday. New recipes showed up with all different sorts of ways to add pumpkin, which I thought was ridiculous, but the customers loved it. Bat stickers got stuck up on the windows and orange holiday lights got set up everywhere.

Mimi had been telling me about what usually goes on for the holidays, then warned me of the Costume Ball and Dinner on Halloween.

"Boys usually dig it if we dress as maids and they give great tips," only I hadn't heard her, because I'd just had a great idea. Maybe. It might be a very bad idea. Because I'd never danced before, and I don't know if he had ever danced before, either.

This might be a great idea because it might get rid of some of the stress in his mind. So at the end of my shift that day I went to the manager's door and knocked.

"Come in," came his kind voice. I opened the door and entered hesitantly, as I'd been doing for a couple months now. I still just felt very small next to him. And I'm not talking about my height.

"What do you need?" he asked, reminding me that I hadn't said anything yet.

"Uh, right. Well, I was hoping to get Halloween off. Maybe." That didn't sound very good. He didn't seem to mind my stumbles, though, and simply smiled.

"You have the evening planned with someone?" He assumed correctly. I nodded in response, knowing I hadn't even talked to Bucky about it and he could very easily decline. Oh well. I'd just have a day off, then. He nodded.

"Employees often ask for holidays off. You must understand that I can't always let that happen." Oh, well, I can deal with that, too. It may not have even been a good idea in the first place.

"However, with the hours you've been working, I think you've earned yourself a day off." My heart leapt up with excitement, because this would be the first time Bucky and I would ever have done something simply for fun. Because visiting your dead family isn't fun.

"Thank you!" He nodded, turning back to his papers in dismissal, so I turned around and opened the door, hesitating before going through.

"How much does the Costume Ball cost?" I asked. He looked back up at me with his eyebrows up in surprise.

"You're coming to work for your night off?" Was that not normal? After a moment he gave a little shrug, dropping his eyebrows to where they belong.

"It won't cost anything; you two will come as friends." It took me a second to realize what he was saying, then a smile took me by surprise because this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.

"Thank you!" Then I did leave – half afraid he would change his mind – and hurried home happily. When I got to the apartment door my bubble popped, though, because I realized that Bucky may not even like the idea. I thought about that for a second, then put the key in the lock and entered.

I'd go even if he didn't want to, because I'd be coming as a friend.

I think Bucky knew something was going on. It may have been because I was acting very suspicious. Alright, so I can sit still for hours on end and not twitch, I can work out until my limbs are jelly, then work out some more, but I'd never really had _fun_ before. And I'd never asked anyone to go do something fun _with_ me before.

In other words, by the time I'd finished trying to act casual and approached Bucky he had abandoned his gun magazine and was just giving me an amused look. I decided not to make this any longer than it had to be, so I skipped the small talk that's supposed to come up first in situations like this.

"There's a Costume Ball at work on Halloween. Would you like to come? John's letting us come free." And there, it was out. Now it was up to him.

The amused look grew and I frowned because he should just answer already. Then he dropped his head back to the magazine in his hands.

"Sure." And it was done. That was so simple. I'd definitely blown things out of proportion. I let out a breath.

"Sure, yeah. Okay." Then I walked into my room, shut the door, and collapsed on my bed. That was probably the most nerve-wracking thing I'd ever done, and I'd fought the Winter Soldier. Yeah, that's how awful that was. And the worst thing is I'm not even sure why it was so hard.

Once I had recomposed myself I changed out of my work suit and into soft black sweats and a large white Tshirt, emerging to prepare dinner.

Talk was minimal that night. We talked a bit about the guns he had been looking at, and I told him about work. The topic of the Ball was avoided, which I was thankful for, because I just realized that I knew very little about it. I could take a few obvious guesses, but other than those I wasn't sure about anything.

The next day was Sunday, so Bucky and I wandered the city. There was only so much people could read before getting tired of it, so Sunday was our day off from everything we normally did during the week.

We made a quick stop at the library to drop off some books – it was closed on Sundays so we used the book return on the outside. After that we just continued to wander without a destination.

**We walked past a few churches that were in session and I was reminded of the times I went to church with my family, and if I focused hard I could just remember my father attending with us before he left for the war.

Mother and I would attend church easily – it gave us a much needed break from the world – but it was difficult for Tommy. He would complain every week before church and I finally just began giving him my little straw doll during it to keep him quiet, figuring it would grow easier for him with time. I was right, of course, but not for the reason I'd thought.

I had kept going to church with Tommy after mother died even though Uncle George didn't attend with us. _Especially_ because Uncle George didn't attend; it was a way to keep us away from him. And Tommy grew more and more subdued the longer we stayed with Uncle George and sitting still on the pews gradually stopped being a problem for him. I figured it was hard on one so young to lose both parents to death and a sister to the mills, being left with an Uncle who hit him for anything done wrong. It wasn't fair to a boy so young.

"Did you used to go to church?" I asked the man next to me as we passed another church. He thought about that for a moment, eyeing a woman and her husband entering the doors quietly, as they were late.

"Mostly just with Steve. We were either out of money or in middle of a war; I wasn't interested in a God who let those kinds of things happen." I thought about his answer, and though I didn't want to lecture him like a priest, I saw a flaw in his explanation.

"God can't make everything right. He just helps us get through the hard times." He gave me a look, showing he clearly didn't agree, so I shrugged and continued. "And besides, why's everything bad God's fault? What about the good?" I didn't expect him to answer, and he didn't. We continued walking, the silence between us settling like an old friend.**

When we made it back to the apartment I quickly grabbed the money we had gradually accumulated through being careful with money and set a small stack to the side.

"If we want, we can currently get a cheap laptop." It was a simple statement, and it really didn't mean all that much, but it would mean a way to get back in touch with the world without having to get to the library first.

He shrugged, showing he didn't particularly care what I did either way, but there was another aspect to this: if we had a laptop in the safety of our apartment, away from the public's prying eyes, maybe he could find his files online and learn more about who he was.

I decided not to mention this, not wanting to come off as too pushy, and instead decided to stop at the library the next day to figure out where to buy a laptop. Bucky soon receded into his bedroom, probably to organize his thoughts. He'd taken to doing this Sundays and Mondays, trying to sort out as many of his new memories as possible before the healing session. He said it helped reduce the stress I've been feeling growing in his mind, so I picked up a book I hadn't grabbed to return to the library as I left him to himself. I intended to read at first, but I'd already read the book, and the week had been tiring despite what I'd claimed to Bucky, so I curled up to take a nap. I settled on an hour or so, giving me enough time to make dinner, and sleep claimed me at once.

…

**So for what you missed, May remembered going to church with her family, and asked if Bucky had ever attended. He replied that he did, but didn't really believe in a God who let such horrible things happen, to which May questions why everything bad is God's fault, and not the good.

I included the part because it gets across a lot about their personalities, especially May's, being that she doesn't blame others for her hardships.

Okay, summary complete. See you next week!


	16. Backstage Support

**IsoldeAhlstrom:** Thanks for reviewing, and sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Glad you're liking it!

 **JLBriggs:** Yeah! The ball seems like it's going to be great. Unfortunately, I've never gone to a ball, so I'm having a difficult time writing it. I'm trying to make it awesome for you guys! But that means more filler. Hopefully this'll be less-obviously filler, though! (The next chapter will probably be more filler, too). Sorry! Have patience! But it is Thanksgiving, and what's Thanksgiving without filler? XD

 **AstralEnCaos:** I'm going to miss your old username! But this one's good, too. And yeah, I plan to run through AoU! In fact I'm thinking of just going along with all the movies because (Spoiler Alert!) I eventually plan on making May part of the Avengers. Dun dun dun! So yeah, hope you're in for the long haul ;) And I didn't know you can only post once when logged in. Maybe try leaving the page and then coming back? *Shrug* And sorry, you had to wait two weeks for the chapter! And it's not even the ball!

 **adamo393:** Long time no see! I thought I'd have to PM you to reply to all of your many reviews, but you've already caught up to me, so never mind! Where've you been? It's been since summer, I think. (I secretly thought you'd died, or been abducted by aliens, or something. Mysteriously vanished. Glad I was wrong!) I've missed your reviews each chapter! You mentioned quite a few times (in your wonderful amount of reviews) that you like the humor. I hadn't even realized that I was adding humor until you mentioned it! I just thought it fit May's character XD Glad someone noticed! Good to have you back, and thanks for sticking with me so long!

…sorry guys…I have excuses…I won't give them to you…have patience. Thanksgiving Break! I'd offer you guys a holiday deal, but I'm running out of steam. Who am I kidding?!

 **Hi – I'm Not Dead – Here's A Deal – You Did Great Last Time – I'm Going To End This Now**

Alright, you guys know the drill. If by next Saturday, November 25th, Breaking the Ice has a total of 76 reviews (10 more) I'll give you a total of two chapters next Saturday.

Why double the reviews? Because I'm giving you double the time. And just to be clear (because I've never really told you this) you're totally allowed to review more than once. As long as you're not just posting nonsense! (e.g. asdfafj;akej. See? Nonsense).

A special thanks to my awesome and amazing new beta reader **AstralEnCaos** , who's now working with me to make the reading experience even better for you!

Alright! Onto the story! Forgive me once again, and, well, yeah. Onward!

 **Disclaimer: I only own my plot and any OCs. There. I said it.**

Chapter 16

Backstage Support

(And Blushes)

I used to have a crush. A very long time ago, when I was young. I didn't let him know, though; I was too independent. I didn't scramble for words whenever he spoke to me, or blush and twirl my hair whenever he walked by, like Prissy Lizzy would with her crushes.

I never did end up acting on that crush, but I don't mind. He grew up to be less than desirable, anyway. Still, I thought about those times often when I was locked in My Room, wondering what would've happened if I'd let him know my feelings. I wondered about a lot of things like that while locked in My Room, until I eventually forgot them due to time or from the chair. It's okay, though. Sometimes "What If's" were just as suffocating as the darkness.

…

The next day at work I made sure to do whatever work I could near Mimi so I could get more information on the Ball, which I was severely lacking information on. She was more than happy to oblige, as well as tell me of all her failed dating attempts.

"I've kind of just given up," she finished, and I wondered, amused, if dating had always been this hard, or if it was just a thing from this century.

"So who are you going with?" Bucky and I had already come up with a false name for him – for whenever we went anywhere public – and had eventually settled on Daniel after a long, thoughtful debate. (Okay, the kid next to us on the bus at the time had introduced himself as Danny, so we took it from there).

"A friend of mine. His name's Daniel."

"Dan? How come I haven't heard of him until now?" I shrugged, rolling up my sleeves as we began the long chore of cleaning the dishes. Why would she have heard of him?

Something seemed to be chewing at her, but she didn't say anything and I was happy to ignore her fidgeting next to me; sometimes it seems like she expects me to know what to do – or say – without actually giving me any idea as to what. I tend to just ignore her during these times, and she usually comes out with it. She seemed to physically pop as she finished waiting.

"Alright, so is he your _boy_ friend or just your friend?" I raised my eyebrows at her, glancing at her from the corner of my eye as I scrubbed at a large stubborn black spot on the side of a pan.

"I did say he was my friend, didn't I?" She seemed pleased.

"Good, 'cause Henry promised me 10 bucks if I can get you to go on a date with him." The spot finally gave way as my head snapped over to her, eyes wide, at the mentioning of the new employee again.

"He _bribed_ you?! Isn't he just supposed to ask me himself?" She scoffed, sticking a dripping plate in the dish rack.

"Well I wasn't really supposed to tell you. I was supposed to be more of the _subconscious,_ or the backstage support. Whatever. What I'm trying to say is that he's a nice guy, you're a nice girl, and I need money. See? Win win win." I rolled my eyes at her, turning back to the dishes.

"Okay, well, if that's the case, you can go back to being Mimi, because I don't need backstage support." Whatever that is. And back to my own questions.

"So we're expected to dress up, right?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Do we have to dress up, or is it optional?" She turned to me with a quirked eyebrow, looking at me.

"You definitely have to dress up." I frowned, wondering if we could afford two costumes – one for me and one for Bucky.

"I don't have a costume," I explained reluctantly, wondering if there was any way we could get away with coming in casual clothes. She brushed off my excuse easily.

"My sister has a few nice costumes. She's my younger sister, so she's closer to your size. And she won't mind. In fact, she's away at college, so she won't even have to know." I pursed my lips slightly, unable to decide if I was supposed to be insulted by her noting my size, but just decided to let it slide.

"It's fine. I'll just ask John if it's alright to…" She shot me a look, making me close my mouth. "Or I'll just wear your sister's costume." Her look turned to approval.

"That's better." So that only left Bucky. I blinked, wondering what on earth he'd go as. I added that to my mental checklist of things to look up at the library later.

"What is it?" I asked her hesitantly about the costume. We moved to drying the dishes as more dirty ones were piled into the sink, both of us deciding that we'd leave the new batch for someone else.

"Why don't you come over and look? I'll take you to my place after work tomorrow. Then you can try it on, too, and make sure it fits. Plus I'm not entirely sure where it is, either, so you can help me look for it." I quickly mapped out tomorrow. I'd be wiped from work and healing Bucky, and he usually makes dinner as well. I figured I'd talk to him about it and see what he thinks.

"I'm not sure, but maybe. I'll check and tell you tomorrow." She nodded, and we finished up with the dishes.

We continued to work, me questioning her on anything I'd need to know whenever I could, until my shift ended a bit after noon, then I took off in the direction of the library.

There weren't any costumes that I could really picture Bucky not refusing to wear, so I gave up after a while, figuring I'd just talk to him about a costume as well. After giving up on costumes I turned to laptops, finding a few decent ones on Craigslist. I weighed between three that I liked equally, finally settling on one that wasn't too far from the apartment, typing a quick email to the owner and quickly jotting down the address on my hand, figuring I'd stop over there after work some time.

Once I finished I started back home, watching people walk on the opposite side of the road and listening to the cars zooming by. Just as with every Monday when I went back, I felt the familiar emotion associated with the healing sessions – something like fear, apprehension, and anxiety mixed up in a puddle of gross – and just as with every Monday I reasoned myself out of the feeling.

Lately Bucky had taken to comforting me in my pain instead of ignoring me as I used to insist he do. And I was thankful for it; it almost seemed to make the pain leave quicker, or at least help take my mind from it. He didn't seem to mind, either, and I wondered if it was because of guilt. I knew he'd taken up cooking, shopping, and numerous other things out of the guilt he felt at causing me pain, and something panged inside of me at knowing I was causing that guilt.

Perhaps that's how he feels? Knowing you were hurting someone you were close to without being able to do anything about it? That isn't a feeling anyone would like.

Once I got to the apartment I gave the special knock and the door opened soon after. Everything seemed normal – the greeting, asking how his day was, him asking how work was – but there was the familiar Monday tension. He liked Mondays just about as much as I did, but his reasoning was different than mine: I felt the gross puddle of emotions at the thought of the pain I'd have to endure, while he didn't look forward to it because he was the one causing me that pain. And as ridiculous as it was, knowing he felt that way helped, because no one had ever felt bad for hurting me before.

We had some time before the session, though, so I decided to go ahead and talk to him about the costume in the meantime.

"Since it's a Costume Ball, we need to dress up." I waited to see how he responded to my statement, but he stayed silent.

"Mimi's sister has a few costumes I might be able to wear, so I'm thinking of going over to her house after work tomorrow to help her look for it." At this his head shot up to look at me.

"You're going to her house?" I was taken back slightly by his surprise, and I nodded, not entirely sure what the problem was.

"What if she's HYDRA?" Ah, there's the problem.

"She's not HYDRA." But then I wondered, what if she is HYDRA? I looked back and analyzed all of the times we had been together, searching for anything that screamed HYDRA.

"What if her sister's HYDRA. Or her parents. Maybe her neighbors." At this I raised my eyebrows at him, thinking he was getting a bit dramatic.

"Our neighbors could be HYDRA," I reminded him. Even though I was partially joking, it didn't help his rapidly dropping mood at all.

"I was joking." He gave me a dark look, and I figured it was time to start smoothing things over.

"Hey, I'm sure I'll be fine." His expression didn't change at all. I bit my lip, an idea flitting to the front of my mind, and I slowly voiced it.

"Maybe, if I ask Mimi, you can meet up with us after work and come with us." He considered this for a second, but I could see the answer in his eyes.

"I'll have to ask her first, and then I'll text you," I reminded him, so he wouldn't get set on going in case she said no. But having figured out this problem, I was left with another.

"We don't have a costume for you." He shot a look at me.

"I'm not dressing up."

"Mimi says we have to."

"I don't care."

"What are you, five?" I heard a mom say that to her teenager yesterday, and I've wanted to say it since. I immediately regretted it, though, as he shot me an even darker look. Well, at least he's in the Halloween spirit.

"Sorry," I muttered. "It just kinda slipped out." His look turned amused before dropping again.

"I'm not dressing up," he deadpanned. I decided not to press it.

"We'll figure something out," and I left it at that. Once the conversation finished I perched up on my sofa with a magazine Bucky had picked up on weaponry and tried to distract myself from the feelings knotted up inside me. Then, surprisingly, as I read I became aware of a new smell. An almost sweet smell. I frowned and looked up from the magazine, looking for the source, but no matter how ridiculous I told myself I was being I kept getting to the conclusion that it was coming from Bucky. My frown deepened and I tried to ignore it as I turned back to reading, telling myself it was just the nerves wearing on me.

We soon made our way to my room, where I flipped on the beside lamp and pulled the normally open drapes closed, blocking out the fading sunlight, then perched up on the edge of the bed and waited for Bucky to sit in his spot in front of me, only he hesitated near the doorway.

"Maybe we could skip this week," he suggested, surprising me since he had never suggested that before. "You'll be going to your friend's house tomorrow, so it would be best if you had your strength in case there are any problems," he quickly explained.

Ah. So he's still worried about tomorrow.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. And hopefully you'll be coming with me, anyway." This didn't ease the tension in his shoulders, or the reluctance he hardly showed, but he did make his way over to me and sit down.

As I put my hands on his head he took a breath, making me stop the process.

"Just don't hurt yourself too bad." My eyes softened and the fear inside of me didn't throb as bad at his words. I didn't answer him, since I would be going just as far as I did every week, which means I would be hurting just as much as I had come to expect, but his concern already made it hurt less.

I closed my eyes and began searching his pains for the one I was looking for, and was disturbed to see the ever growing stress still there. Maybe he hadn't wanted to do the session this week for himself, to try and help with the stress, but I continued to search until I found it.

The process was familiar by now, and it felt like both an instant and an eternity before I was able to release his head in favor of my own.

As Bucky scooped me up into his arms I wished I could enjoy it more, and I would if it weren't for the pain tearing apart my mind, because I hadn't been held so gently in a long time. Mother never had the time to hold me tenderly and lovingly, so I went un-held as I myself cradled Tommy when he needed comfort.

As the pain lessened I became aware of my surroundings once again and the first thing that hit me was the smell from earlier, which was in fact coming from Bucky.

I turned my face into him slightly and tried to place what the smell was, and then my eyes widened in surprise as I finally placed it. I lifted my head, still somewhat aching with pain, eyes wide, and his eyes were drawn to mine.

"You're wearing cologne!" He immediately seemed to shrink somewhat, and it took me a moment to realize that he was looking _bashful_ , albeit in a very subdued way.

"Uh, yeah. I thought I'd try it out." I continued to stare at him in surprise, because I had never really thought of him doing anything, well, like a normal guy. Then his eyes shot over to mine quickly.

"Do you like it?" Do I like it? Hm. I lowered my head back onto his chest, taking a breath from my nose (and if I was looking, I would've seen a tiny blush form on his face) and wondered if I liked it. It was sweet, almost like candy, but not so sugary.

I sat back up and nodded. "It's nice." He didn't say anything, but set me down on the bed and went to leave the room, but I quickly asked the same question I do every week, which he more often than not declines.

"Do you want to talk about them?" He shook his head and left the room, shutting the door and leaving me in the dark to nurse away the lasting pain in my head.

As soon as the door was closed Bucky made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, trying to get the red to fade.

…

Guys, I'm losing my motivation! Finals are coming up, I'm literally forcing myself not to start up a different fic I want to write that'll only distract me from this and finals, and it's winter now so my fingers are freezing. Be my motivation! Review!


	17. Black Holes

**MareeWriter:** Hahahaha! When I read your review I couldn't stop laughing for Ages! Hahahaha! You're awesome! Thanks for reviewing!

 **Lara Barnes:** Thanks for the support, and I'm really glad you're liking my story so much! Good luck on your finals!

 **Astral Kai:** Yeah, poor Henry; he's destined to fail. Well, he does have a larger part to play in the future, so don't forget about him yet *cue evil smile* Isn't Bucky Adorable?! They've both progressed so much from who they were at the beginning! T-T My babies are growing so fast. And Ha! I'm making that a thing! #mayinavengers !

 **Guest:** Thank you so much for reviewing, and I'm glad you're liking it!

 **ISoldeAhlstrom:** Thank you! Thanks for reviewing so often; you've become one of my constants!

 **beckychelle:** Thanks for the support! And yeah, I've gotten a few comments saying that people want to see May interacting with the rest of the team. And it's definitely going to happen in the future!

 **Other guest:** I understand completely! Technology has a knack for being unpredictable. Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're liking it!

 **Other Other Guest:** Aw…you totally made my day! I'm glad that my fic can be counted as one of the best. I've read a lot of really good Bucky/OC fics, and I'm really glad you think mine is that good! Thank you!

 **Other Other Other Guest:** Thank you, too! I'm really really glad to see how much people are liking this! Thanks for the support!

Have I ever mentioned how awesome you guys are? Well you guys are absolutely awesome! My motivation has returned, I'm on Thanksgiving Break, and you guys met the review requirement! I'm on Cloud 9! My hot water did go out early this week, though. It's been fixed (thank goodness) but I had to endure a few super cold showers in the winter. Yeah. I'm surprised I haven't caught a cold. Or hypothermia. But hey, you know what I realized?! If these horrible things didn't ever happen, what would I right about in my ANs? See, there's a bright side to every awful thing! But then again, you guys have me in a really good mood :)

I also need your help figuring out May's last name. Her first name is Emilia, and the options for her last name are: **Macri, Noto, Schiavo, DiSarro.** (Her father was Italian, so her last name is, too). Help is much appreciated!

Thank you so much to my patient beta reader **AstralEnCaos** who has to deal with me all throughout the week. Thank you!

 **Disclaimer: I own everything you read about on this page. JK! But the plot and OCs are all mine.**

Chapter 17

Black Holes

(And Costumes)

Holidays were always the easiest times to get targets. Depending on the target, all we'd have to do was get them on their way back, or wait until everyone was gone and get the host. And it's easy, because during the holidays people's guards are down and there's alcohol galore. It's Open Season, and HYDRA knew it. There were always more missions during holidays than any other time of the year, because people who had previously been untouchable were suddenly vulnerable.

I had a few of my own missions during holidays, where I was the assassin and not the healer. I broke many families hearts, and they didn't even know it. They would forever think that their loved one had perished in a car accident, or gotten too drunk and disappeared somewhere to die. But I had done it, and I remember them all. I was a killer; I had become a monster.

…

Mimi agreed to having Bucky over as well, saying that he could help lift boxes while we searched for the costume. I also may have mentioned his reluctance to dressing up, and she got an odd glint in her eye, but didn't say anything.

I texted him, and although he didn't answer I knew he had gotten it, so I went back to work.

Aside from Mimi there were quite a few other employees, and they were all bustling about getting ready for the holidays, as well as the increased number of visitors wanting the odd pumpkin recipes. Even Gertrude – who usually hogged the front desk – was bustling about as the new employee – Henry – took the front desk, as he was the less experienced of the two.

The day passed quickly with no more incidents with Mimi trying to act as my subconscious, so the two of us finally finished and grabbed our things and went out to the front, where Bucky was waiting for us.

We walked over to him, and Mimi held out her hand.

"You must be Dan." He took her hand easily, shaking it, and I knew he never would've been able to trust someone like that even just a month ago, so pride welled up inside of me at his progress.

"And you must be Mimi. I've heard a lot about you." She raised an eyebrow and looked over at me.

"All good things, I hope. I haven't heard too much about you, though. You'll have to tell me about yourself." He nodded, though I knew he definitely wouldn't. And I was right.

As we walked the distance to her house she would question him occasionally about himself, but he'd give a very vague and brief answer, and fluidly turn the attention onto herself.

She was giving him the same explanation she had given me the day before on all of her failed dating attempts when she led us into the driveway of a two story house.

She opened the door grandly, ushering us in.

"Welcome to mi casa. What's mine is yours." There was the sound of children bickering in the other room and she turned to us with a look. "Except everything here is my mom's, so make sure to get permission before you break anything." Then she led us into what must have been the living room, with two young identical girls fighting over a few plastic dolls.

"People, these are my twin sisters Maddy and Eva. Maddy and Eva, stop fighting." They ignored her and continued arguing, popping their heads up to say a quick hello, then we walked past them to the kitchen where a woman – probably the mother – was talking into a cell phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear while she chopped up vegetables.

"Miriam, honey, grab me an onion, would you?" She whispered, and Mimi easily swooped down and grabbed an onion from a low shelf in front of her, handing it to her mother who gave a smile in thanks.

"We're going to go look for a costume," she whispered, to which the mother nodded, waving at me and Bucky briefly before getting caught up in a conversation on the phone.

We left the room, ascending some stairs, then she directed Bucky to lower a wood ladder down from the ceiling, which led us to the box-filled attic and pulled a thin rope that flipped a few bulbs on.

"Welcome to the attic! It's the black hole of old junk and holiday stuff. Follow me." Then she immediately took off toward one corner of the attic, scooting things out of her way to make a path. Bucky and I shared a look, then took off after her.

"So I know just which costume I want you to wear. Halloween boxes are in this general area. We just need to look through all of them for it." I shot her a look.

"You haven't told me what it is, yet." She nodded.

"Just tell me if you find a white dress. I'll take it from there." I gave a tiny huff at her vague response, but got to work searching through boxes.

Mostly, there were lights, jumbles of fake cobwebs, pumpkins, and all sorts of other things (including a very real looking plastic skeleton, which made me internally freak out for a second, though I wouldn't ever tell anyone. For a moment I was worried that I had befriended a serial killer.)

In many cases Mimi had Bucky unstack boxes, and I found it amusing that I could just as easily lift those boxes she found so heavy, but I didn't say anything for the sake of discretion. Each time, though, she would widen her eyes comically at me from behind him and point at his biceps which pulled against his long sleeved shirt, to which I would silently laugh at her. For a subconscious trying to get me to date Henry, she wasn't doing very well.

In the end it was Bucky who found a white dress, but I didn't get a chance to get a peek at it since she quickly took his place and shoved the costume into a large trick-or-treating bag she had found earlier. I narrowed my eyes at her, but she ignored me and walked back towards the ladder, telling us to follow her.

I chuckled, amused, and followed as she led us to her bedroom where she put the bag down on her bed and shooed Bucky out, telling him to wait while I got changed.

It was only after she shut the door and handed me the bag that I realized she expected me to change with her right there, and my eyes darted quickly for a way out. There! There was a bathroom attached to her room.

"I'm just going to change in there," I said quickly, edging toward it. She raised an eyebrow, before she got an understanding look on her face.

"Ah. You were homeschooled, weren't you." It wasn't a question, and I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but if it gave me an excuse to get away, I was fine with it, so I nodded and shut the bathroom door.

I let out a quick breath in relief, turning away from the mirror as I took out the contents from the bag. That was close; the real reason I didn't want to change in front of her was because my scars were sure to alarm her.

…

I looked in the mirror, amazed at the reflection I saw. At first glance the pearl white dress seemed simple, but after a second you could see the intricate designs. Since the dress was made for a younger girl it covered just as much skin as I needed it to; the half sleeves just barely covered the tips of my scars, the neckline didn't go down too far, and the skirt hugged my hips before flowing to an end just above my knees.

In my time this would've been very near scandalous, but it would be appropriate for this century, so I tried not to worry about it too much.

Then there were the beautiful wings that were just as intricate as the dress with its perfectly arranged (real) white feathers, and the delicate halo which I held in my hands, hesitating to put them on. A knock sounded on the door.

"You done?" I nodded, though I knew she couldn't see, and walked out with the pieces still in my hands. She scanned me up and down, stopping at the things held in my hands, and raised an eyebrow.

"You need help putting those on?" I shook my head, wondering how to explain what I was feeling to her. I settled on looking her in the eyes and giving a slow shake of my head.

"I'm not an angel." Her face at once became understanding, and I knew she understood what I meant.

She took a step closer, taking the halo from me, and perched it on my head.

"The thing about Halloween is that you can be anything for just a night." The sadness in me at reminding myself of the shadows in my past faded somewhat, and I gave her a ghost of a smile.

"Thanks Mimi."

I slipped the wings onto my back, finding that the small band of elastic slipped inconspicuously under a seam woven into the dress, then retrieved the bag for Mimi.

"There are more wings in there," I informed her, wondering if she had just grabbed them on mistake, but she got the familiar glint in her eyes again.

"I know." And once again I had to accept her vague answer as she let Bucky back into the room.

His eyes found me right away – after doing a quick sweep of the room, of course – and he seemed surprised. A smile formed on my face, now that I wasn't worrying about the implications, and I found myself turning in a circle like I would do when I got new clothes from second hand stores and tried them on for Mother, back before she worked in the mills.

Mimi watched this exchange, a smirk growing on her face as she crossed her arms and leaned on a hip, because she was able to see the way he looked at her. It's the way she wished a man would look at her, but didn't. Mimi was also able to see how the girl dressed in white was completely oblivious to his look, and rolled her eyes.

So it's one of _those_ relationships.

…

Once we had finished looking at my own costume, Mimi pulled out the second pair of wings from the bag. These were dark, but other than that were identical to my own wings.

"Your costume came as a set with a black angel costume. Both were made for girls though, so I figured just the wings would be fine, as long as you wear all black," she explained, then held them out to Bucky.

The two of us seemed to realize what she expected at the same time, so I started chuckling while he took a step back.

"I'm not dressing up," he said shortly, shooting a look at me that clearly told me to shut up, but it just made me start up in another fit of giggles. Simply because it was so ironic. Mimi's something else for sure.

"Don't be a party pooper. You'll make AJ feel weird if she dresses up and you don't." Really? I would've thought he'd be the one who felt weird coming to a costume party in casual clothes. But for some reason that made him hesitate before crossing his arms and glowering at us, causing Mimi to snort. She stuck the wings back into the bag and handed it to me.

"Just think about it," she said, then pushed the bag into my hands. She brought her hands together in a clap and rubbed them together, signaling the end of the conversation.

"Well, now that that's over, what should we do? Our options are limited thanks to the two twin she-devils downstairs, but I'm sure we can get away with a movie and some ice cream, or something." And even though I was tempted to take up the offer, I could see Bucky getting antsy at the thought of spending any more time in a stranger's home, so I decided against staying.

"Thanks for the offer, but we should take off before it gets darks." She immediately nodded, motioning me toward the bathroom to get back into my normal clothes.

"Yeah, totally. Do you need a ride or anything?" Then she muttered under her breath, "I have _no_ idea why you don't have a car." I subtly raised an eyebrow at her, but shook my head.

"No thanks, we're good."

While I changed back into my clothes Mimi was able to scrounge up a pair of white flat shoes that would fit me and shoved them into the bag along with the costumes, and soon Bucky and I were making our way down the driveway, and I was waving at Mimi in the doorway with the bag hanging on my arm.

"Thanks so much for the costumes! See you tomorrow," I called, which she brushed off as if it was nothing. Lending them to us might've been nothing to her, but it really meant a lot to me that she cared enough.

I turned back around, listening to the bag thump whenever it hit my leg, glancing at the perfect green lawns around us.

"So, Mimi got you a costume." I let it hang, letting him decide whether to continue the topic or not.

"I'm not wearing it," he said immediately. My eyebrow raised and I turned my head to look up at him.

"Well, it was nice of her in any case." He didn't say anything, but that means he didn't object, either.

…

Yup, more fluff. But since you reached the requirement it means you get another chapter. And guess what it is? Mhm it's the ball.


	18. The Costume Ball

Happy Belated Thanksgiving! Of course this isn't a world-wide holiday, but the message is the self-explanitory. What's something you're thankful for? I'm thankful for hot showers and my amazing parents. I'm also thankful for _some_ of my many siblings. XD JK! A few of my siblings are still a pain, so I'm still having to work to find room in my heart for them, but somewhere deep down I'm thankful for them, too!

Thanks once again to my beta **AstralEnCaos** who worked double time to get both of these to you guys on time. I'm thankful for you, too!

 **Disclaimer: I only own my plot and any OCs.**

Chapter 18

The Costume Ball

(And Possibilities)

It was some point during my stay with HYDRA that I realized my hate of being alone. I had already been stuck in My Room, I had already been driven insane, and I'd already survived the serum. Up until then I had figured I just hated being in My Room, until it occurred to me one day that I just hated being alone in general.

I guess that happens after a time, after everyone a person loves keeps leaving them. First it was father to the army, then mother to the mills. Then I lost mother once again to death. Finally, I had lost Tommy, the last person I had left to love or to love me. I had lost everyone, and I was left alone.

I wasn't sure how to take that revelation while with HYDRA, because I was truly alone. My Room only cemented that. It laughed at my loneliness, shoved it in my face, and made it worse.

…

That Saturday night Bucky and I both entered _Angus Barn_ in our angel costumes. It had been surprisingly easy to convince him to wear the wings at the last second, though I was still shocked he had consented. Mimi didn't seem too surprised, though.

The day before I had run to a few thrift stores and was able to find two little half masks that covered from the nose up – black and white respectively – with Bucky's insistence at having a disguise. It was a really good idea, now that I think about it, so we were able to walk among the crowd without any worry of detection.

Mimi walked straight over to us in her _very_ small maid's costume and immediately gave Bucky a knowing look I didn't completely understand. But that's Mimi.

"Your costumes are awesome. Where'd you get them?" She then said to me, to my confusion. I was about to remind her that we got them from her, in fact, when it occurred to me that she already knew, this was just her way of complimenting herself. Conversations are so difficult.

"Uh, yeah, well." What do I say? She's already complimented herself. Do I compliment her? She didn't wait for me to give a better answer, though.

"Oh right, you got them from me! Nice call on the masks, by the way." Then she was guiding us to a less crowded portion of the room.

The tables that usually dotted the main area had been replaced with longer, more elegant, tables in a few long rows, already set, and I nearly had to stop myself from going to the kitchen and helping them get the food ready to be brought out.

I felt Bucky tense next to me as we walked deeper into the crowd, so I hooked my arm with his, hoping the gesture would calm him somewhat. We made it to the less crowded area – where I could hear myself think again – but I easily decided to simply leave my arm where it was.

"So," Mimi still had to raiser her voice over the still-present noise of the crowd "You decided to dress up." Bucky didn't answer, but I nodded. That's fine; I had something to say, anyway.

"There wasn't a halo," I said back to her, fighting to be heard. As a small person, my voice is small, too. She nodded, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Yeah, you're an angel, you know, the kind from Heaven. He's an angel from, well, the other side. Black angel," she elaborated, but something didn't sit well with me with that explanation. I felt Bucky tense up again and I knew she had hit close to home. So I rested my other arm on Bucky's arm as well, looking into Mimi's eyes.

"His halo's invisible." My voice didn't leave room for question, and I could feel Bucky's gaze on the top of my head. I was getting something across to Mimi, though, so I didn't look up to meet his gaze. I was speaking to both of them just the same.

Mimi's eyebrows lifted marginally, but then a secret little smile grew on her face and she shrugged.

"It's up to you, really."

Some people carrying instruments walked onto the stage not long after that, and Mimi told us to dance right before hurrying off to the kitchen. I almost followed her, before once again reminding myself that I wasn't working tonight. After I got past that urge her words registered and I looked up at Bucky.

"Well, do you want to dance?" I asked him as couples began to flock to the open dancing space and move in time to the music, and wondered slightly if he'd even be fine with talking with anyone else, let alone dancing with them. He shook his head, though, and I felt my heart drop for a second before I reminded myself that I had already taken him out of his comfort zone enough.

I had asked him to come to this because I thought it would help with the stress in his mind, and maybe help him have fun, but I was beginning to wonder if I had been selfish in asking him. Maybe I had let my wants get in front of his needs.

I shot a look at the door, wondering if I should tell him he was free to go home, but then he cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him.

"Do _you_ want to dance?" He asked. I noticed the emphasis and gave a sheepish smile.

"I don't know how," I explained. There really wasn't ever an opportunity – or a reason – for me to learn. His eyes widened a bit – just a little bit, but for him it was nearly comical – behind his mask, and before I knew it he was dragging me onto the dance floor.

It hadn't occurred to me that he'd want to dance with me, or I wouldn't have mentioned it.

"Bucky!" I called over the noise. "I don't know how!" He stopped among the moving bodies as the song changed to a slower song, the woman singing in her enchanting voice of someone being haunted by her dead fiancé.

The ache in the back of my mind told me that a few here had lost their fiancés, but the ache was driven away when Bucky grabbed one of my hands and my waist, but still kept a good distance between our bodies.

"That's why I'm going to teach you," he replied over the noise. "This kind of song is easy, just follow my lead." And after looking down at his feet, memorizing the pattern, and copying his movements myself, I looked back up at him, and the elation I felt was copied in his eyes, and I realized that this wasn't the assassin I ran away with. This was the old Bucky who was beginning to emerge more and more frequently.

We continued to dance, and he guided me in the different styles – participating himself as well, though we weren't nearly as into it as the many people around us. Once they began to play a particularly crazy song we extracted ourselves from the crowd and returned to the marginally quieter spot by the wall.

"Where'd you learn to dance?" I asked him over the noise, surprised not only to see such happiness in Bucky's eyes, but to see that I was slightly out of breath. Dancing must use different muscles than I'm used to using. Yet my muscles didn't ache, and my face was flushed. And if I wasn't mistaken, I was _blushing._ I brushed it off to the physical exertion, not worried about anyone else seeing it because of the mask covering my cheeks.

"We lived in the 20th century. The more pressing question is why you _didn't_ learn to dance." I laughed, not realizing that he had in fact asked that as a question.

"It was fun!" I called to him. It was fun, and looking at him, I was positive it was fun for him, too.

Not long after we finished dancing someone went onto the stage and asked everyone to take seats as the food and drinks were about to be served.

Eating was a blur of goodness. I'd never eaten most of the foods before, and I could see Bucky next to me savoring a few of the dishes as well, and that warmed me more than any of the hot dishes could.

As the evening progressed and people's wine intake increased the building became increasingly louder with tipsy laughter and shouted conversations, and to my surprise Bucky didn't ask to leave a single time, like I expected him to. In fact, by the look in his eyes I'd guess he was amused at watching as people lost themselves further due to intoxication.

He had already explained to me that he couldn't get drunk – neither could Steve, I guessed – and I had in turn explained to him that though it takes much more than the average person, I could get drunk. Once again it was due to my less advanced serum, but I wasn't fond of getting drunk anyway. It meant losing judgement and common sense, and those are two things I don't want to give up willingly or not.

Still, when I explained my ability to get drunk a glint grew in Bucky's eyes that I had grown familiar with in Mimi, whenever she was planning something mischievous. So I also quickly explained my dislike of getting drunk. The gleam didn't leave his eyes, but he didn't press it, so I let it go.

Mimi joined us a few times, swooping things from my plate or emptying one of our glasses of wine – much to Bucky's disgust, after which he'd make a point of asking her to get him a new cup – and I watched as her loose mouth grew even more loose, if that's even possible, as the night grew on. I did try to remind her a few times that the employees weren't supposed to drink on the job, but she'd just laugh me off and snatch something else from my plate before going to a different guest.

Finally, once the food was long gone and people were simply talking and laughing over each other and the ever present music coming from the stage, Bucky and I decided to take our leave. I figured it was as good a time as any, so we bid Mimi goodbye as she came out to gather empty dishes and snitch food again, thanking her for the costumes once more before stepping into the chilly night air.

I quickly slid on my jacket, seeing our breath puff out in front of us in the light from a nearby lamp post, but the jacket did nothing for my exposed legs. We both removed our masks, no longer at risk of being recognized in the dark night.

We began on our way home in silence, but it was a nice silence. A silence that spoke of companionship and even friendship. We were no longer who we were when we first set out together; he was no longer the silent assassin, and I was no longer the escaped experiment. We had become our own people, and looking up at Bucky now, with my own contentment mirrored in his own eyes, I knew we were happy with who we were becoming.

Bucky looked down and met my own gaze with an unspoken question. In response I gave a small smile and looked back in front of me.

"We've changed a lot haven't we." It wasn't a question, and he didn't answer. The silence had been broken, though, so I continued to disturb it.

"Did you have fun?" I asked him. I heard him shrug, since I wasn't looking at him, but then he gave an actual answer, contradicting the nonchalance he had just shown.

"Yeah," he confessed. "I haven't done anything like that in a long time. And I hadn't really thought I ever would again." I nodded in understanding.

"Did you used to go out often?" I asked, recalling him as he danced. His movements had seemed fluid, and familiar, as if he'd practiced them a lot. He nodded.

"I went out a lot. The more I remember about _Bucky_ the more little things I used to do come back to me. It's funny how something that used to be such a large part of my life just…isn't anymore. Does that make sense?" I nodded, because it does.

"I understand. Whenever I remember little things that used to mean so much to me, I'm almost surprised at how little they mean to me now."

We made it to the apartment building and I dug the key to the apartment out of the little purse I had brought along with me while we took the stairs up to our floor.

"Thank you," Bucky said abruptly. I looked up at him, key in hand, as we approached our door.

"Oh?" His face stayed expressionless, but I could see a whirlwind of emotions running through his eyes as he turned to look at me.

"For asking me to come with you tonight." I smiled. Well, that had been easy. We stopped in front of the door and I went to unlock the door, but he wasn't done.

"And for staying with me so long. And for coming with me in the first place. I don't know where'd I'd be now if you hadn't come with me, and helped me so much. Thank you." I looked up at him, and this is the first time he'd looked into my eyes so deeply. For the first time, he was trying to make a point to _me,_ not the other way around. What I found in there was almost dizzying; everything he was feeling right then, and without realizing it I found myself leaning in as he himself did as well. I was drawn in by those eyes that were trying to get so many things across to me.

My eyes darted down from his eyes to his lips, and then the trance was broken. At the same time we both seemed to realize what we were doing and simply pulled away as if it hadn't ever happened in the first place.

I jammed the key into the lock and we entered, going our separate ways to get ready for bed. Then it occurred to me that Bucky had just thanked me – and this is Bucky we're talking about – for something as simple as staying with him.

"You're welcome, Bucky," I said as he was heading toward the bathroom. He turned his head to look at me. "And thank you, too, for staying with me." He blinked, then nodded, going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.


	19. Broken Resolve

**Fire Elf:** Thank you so much for the comments! I've actually heard that authors should write for themselves first, but I didn't know it was Stephen King who said it. Whoa. Honestly, I told myself when I first began writing No One that I wouldn't care about the reviews or favorites or anything, but after a while of writing and not getting any feedback it was like having a conversation with someone who doesn't talk to you in reply. It's very awkward and one begins to wonder if they're doing something wrong, or if there's something on their face XD And no, I don't particularly like the thought of a person reviewing unhelpful comments under different names, but I'm honored that they'd go through the trouble, in any case. If they want the chapter enough to do that, then I'd happily post it just for that person. I guess the review mongering isn't so much me writing for others, but more trying to get feedback. And as a fanfic reader myself, I understand what it's like to wait for the next chapter of a story, and so this is also how I'm giving people an opportunity to get it quicker. I've definitely taken your words into consideration, though, and it's helped me a lot to determine my future course of action. Now looking at all of this, it may still fully be a reason that I'm losing motivation, but I also have some words to add to that. In general, I find it hard to be a persistent person. I was raised in a very chaotic home with very little order, and so any structure I have in my life I built myself. Saying this, I've now been posting a weekly chapter(s) for around 8 months, and that's the longest I've stayed true to anything like this. I think it's just my chaotic lifestyle getting back to me, because sticking with anything for long amounts of time without a doubt leads me to get bored of them. And so, I think you're totally right! I've been considering taking winter break off to re-motivate myself, especially since I'll be travelling, and I'm glad to see that not everyone will be completely bummed if I do. Thank you for all of the movie recommendations! I'll definitely take a look at them over the break. I actually haven't watched Once Upon a Time, but I've heard it's pretty good.

Now onto the lighter topics! You got it spot on: I'm a high schooler aged person but in college. And whoa, an English teacher is enjoying my writing. Whoa. I don't even know what to say. I'm really, really glad I've been able to reach your standards. As for planning ahead, yes, I have planned ahead. I have a notebook reserved just for my fics that's filled with timelines, tibits of information, and all of that good stuff. Otherwise, with how bad I am at staying persistent with things, I doubt I would've made it this far, or have succeeded in posting every week as planned. Thanks so much for reviewing, even if it was reluctant. If you ever have anything else to say, Private Messages are good, too (though I don't know if guests can do PMs).

 **Astral Kai:** I ended up getting sick, actually. I'm only just getting over a cold. Meh. At least it was the week BEFORE finals. Ha! Getting Bucky into the costume was fun. For me, I mean. The end of one chapter he's like 'no', then beginning of the next he's wearing it. That's May! Don't read it 'til you die! I still

need you! But I'm glad you've liked it just the same XD

 **luvanimals999:** hello new viewer! I'm glad you're liking the story, and thank you for reviewing!

 **JLBriggs:** I know right! I've had that scene on my mind pretty much since I began this story. Glad you're liking it!

Finals are here. Need I say more? Sorry this is late, just the same. My beta's out sick, poor thing, so any mistakes are completely mine! And this story now officially has more chapters than No One. Yay! We've come so far :) Good luck to any of you out there doing finals as well. If you're currently reading instead of studying, Get out of here! Go study! Time leaves and finals do too, but this chapter is staying right where it is. So come back to it later!

 **Disclaimer: I only own my plot and any OCs.**

Chapter 19

Broken Resolve

(And Ruined Chances)

Bucky's POV

Being the eldest child of four, I had a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. I was reminded constantly that I was the example, and what I did they would do. I remember trying not to let it bother me too much. Whenever I did anything wrong or deliberately disobeyed I made myself brush it off as the nonsense adults tend to spill out. A large problem I often found myself pondering, though, was that I was the oldest, so that meant I must not have an example to follow.

That was until I met Steve, because even though he was younger than me he became my example. Sure, we were still young, but while I always looked out for number one, he didn't even factor himself into the equation. When I'd turn my back on someone in need, Steve would give them everything he had, and more. But even though Steve taught me to be a person I was proud to be, I was still me. And being me, I still find myself making those stupid mistakes I'd make before meeting Steve.

…

It came abruptly. I woke up the day after the Costume Ball and knew my resolve had broken; I was going to look May up.

For the first time I was almost impatient for her to leave to work. Luckily, it was a Friday, and that meant she had a morning shift, so after working out she made breakfast quickly and went to change into her work clothes, and as she left she quickly told me that she'd be finishing from work early today, asking where she should meet me so I could show her the escape routes and the safe houses I'd found, and I absently told her that I'd be at the library as she hurried out of the door. I hardly noticed the exchange, though, because my mind was occupied with thoughts of the library. Or more precisely the computer there.

I waited five minutes after she left before taking off so that we wouldn't end up crossing paths at all, then made my way over. I walked slowly, running through my mind all the reasons why it would be okay for me to look her up.

It was like a background check, I reasoned. I had never told her she couldn't look me up, and she had never said that I couldn't look her up, either. The little conscience growing in the back of my mind whispered that she hadn't looked me up even though I hadn't told her not to, and she was trusting me not to look her up, either, but I quickly brushed the voice aside.

I finally got to the building, hesitating for a second before walking in…only to see someone already on it. It was a small library in a relatively small town, so they only had two computers that went online, one of which was currently occupied and the other being out of order, as it had been for as long as I'd been coming, so I set myself to wait.

I was a trained assassin, and before that a sniper, so patience was second nature to me. I had waited hours in the same position, waiting for my target to come out of a building. I had waited in the shadows for even longer in people's houses, waiting for the target to be alone so I wouldn't leave any witnesses. And yet this seemed to be the longest wait of my life.

It was some kid playing games online while his mother studied in the corner, and it was nearly an hour before they finally left and I could finally take the computer as my own. Next came the problem of actually finding her, though.

My first instinct was to type in her name – May – before I remembered that it wasn't her true name, and I didn't even know her full name. Next I thought of looking up HYDRA's assets, but I was afraid my own picture would come up before her own and didn't want to risk anyone looking past my shoulder and recognizing me past my disguise. Likewise, I didn't want to look up HYDRA experiments, either, because I'd once been an experiment of theirs myself.

I finally settled on 'HYDRA – healing abilities' and was immediately given a bunch of pages leading to different HYDRA information, as well as conspiracy theories regarding them, even some sites leading to SHIELD's files as well.

And then I found it.

I knew it was what I was looking for because of the once-familiar writing of a doctor making observations. I recognized it from seeing it as they wrote about me. Only instead of my name there was a different name – Emilia Macri. Emilia; Emma.

I hesitated for a moment, then tuned out my conscience for a moment and clicked it. And I would regret that for a long time to come.

I browsed the computer for hours – if I was paying attention I would've noticed plenty of kids get annoyed at me for disobeying the 30 minute maximum sign – and what I saw both horrified and fascinated me.

Dozens, hundreds; dozens of hundreds of experiments had been performed on the girl I was currently sharing an apartment with. The mental experiments were cruel, the experiments with her ability were never-ending. But the physical experiments…

Without realizing it a hand crept up to cover my mouth as I stared at a picture of the girl – younger – on an experimentation table. She was clothed in a thin blue hospital gown, and her face was gaunt and her hair lank, as if she hadn't had a proper meal or shower in years. It's not that which got me. It wasn't even how her arm had been turned completely inside out, putting the inside of her arm on full display to the point I could easily see the bone. It wasn't that the scientists were picking at her arm and judging by the scalpels and clear test tubes in their hands, taking bits for sample.

What got me was that she was staring straight into the camera with half lidded eyes full of pain. Just like with me, they didn't use pain killer on her for the operations.

Then I heard a tiny sound from behind me, and my heart sank to my toes as I realized that I had lost track of time. The conversation from this morning that I hadn't paid attention to came back to me full force, and I looked down to the computer's clock and saw that it was 1:30. I turned around, and I knew guilt filled my features, but I didn't even attempt to hide it because my gaze was on the large scar on her arm which poked past her uniform, the one that I had noticed first back in Brooklyn.

I didn't stop her as she pushed past me and closed the window I'd had open, cleared the history, and shut the computer off before unplugging it for good measure.

I didn't resist as she pulled me out of the automatic doors and pulled me to the far side of the library, because her eyes which were so full of life now – full of curiosity and currently the most anger I'd seen her express – were still the empty pain-filled ones I had seen stare back at me from the picture.

She finally turned so my back was to the wall, and though she was much shorter, the look she fixed me with made me feel like I was the one having to look up at her.

" _Why?"_ She hissed. And I didn't know how to answer her. My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to force out, so I closed it again. I attempted again, figuring she deserved for me to at least give an excuse, but once again words escaped me and I shut my mouth again.

After the deafening silence – the first uncomfortable silence I'd experienced with her in a long time – she turned her head away, as if shaking her head. In shame? Disappointment?

"You could've just asked me." I didn't register that she had walked away until long after she was out of sight.

The things I read continued to run through my head, haunting me – taunting me – and I knew I had let her down. She had trusted me, and I had betrayed that trust. What would I have done if she had looked me up without me knowing it? I probably would've reacted a lot worse.

Somewhere, hidden deep beneath the guilt and the shame, was a level of relief at finally knowing more about her. But I hid it further down and refused to acknowledge it, because once again I had caused her pain. Pain from the memory of pain.

I thought of last night, of the almost-kiss, and I realized that I had wanted that. I had wanted to close the distance between us. I had wanted to hold her, and I had wanted to kiss her, but now that wasn't likely to happen again. I had ruined things; I had broken her trust.

I looked in the direction she had gone, and I knew I had to fix things. Because I couldn't handle things without her anymore. I needed her by my side.

As I admitted to myself that I had become dependent on always having her, I took off quickly back to the apartment, hoping that's where she had gone.

…

I got to the apartment and it was empty. I immediately began to worry that she had left, or been spotted by HYDRA, or some other organization that wanted her. The images and the words from the computer flitted across my mind, but I shoved them away viciously. Forcing myself to calm down, I let myself in, determining that I'd wait an hour before turning the town upside-down looking for her. After all, she may just be in need of some personal time.

I did what she did the time I had walked out on her; I turned her armchair so it was facing the door and sat down.

As I waited I let myself process all of the information I had received, trying to process everything. I'd read a lot, reading a lot on the characteristics of the experiments, but I had hardly even scratched the surface of the information provided there, and that worried me quite a bit.

The scars I had seen on her back not so long ago flashed across my eyelids as I shut them, guilt flooding me at having invaded her privacy by looking her up without permission.

 _You could've asked me._ She had sounded so betrayed, and that itself ripped another hole in my heart, right next to the one that had formed when I realized I had ruined my chances with her.

She opened the door slowly and I shot up to my feet, going straight over to her as she shut the door behind her with her eyes glued to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I mean I shouldn't have done that. You had trusted me not to do that, and I broke that trust. I'm sorry." She kept her down but didn't say anything for a moment.

Finally, she began walking forward and I let her pass by me without a word. She hesitated for a moment at her door, eyes still to the ground.

"I'm not ready to forgive you yet." My heart plummeted again. "I know you didn't mean any harm by it, I just…I need to think." And then she was gone.

My shoulders dropped and I stared at the floor like she had been, and I shuffled to my room as well, leaving the arm chair as I had moved it, and there was only one thing running through my mind.

I'm such an idiot.

…

Oh no! All of his progress ruined! But really, that wasn't very smart on his part. So is now a good time to mention that after next week's post I'm going on vacation and won't be able to update for a month?


	20. Getting Drunk

**JLBriggs:** Oh, good question. I've tried to leave little hints and explanations all throughout the fic on why Bucky would want to look May up. It's up to quite a few things, actually. The things I've mentioned before are that Bucky's an assassin, and as such he's used to knowing about people. Then comes his affection for her, and with that affection comes the want to know more about her. He's also thought at least once on how it's unfair that she knows seems to know everything about him while he knows so little about her. Then, though I haven't mentioned it, there's just general curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat! Does that clear up your question? If not, review or PM me, and I'll make sure to get you PM in return some time during the break. As for what hurt May more, that's covered in this chapter, so I'll let you figure out on your own ;) As for whether HYDRA noticed or not *evil laugh* no HYDRA didn't, but someone else may have…I actually hadn't even thought about this blowing their cover. There you are giving me good ideas again! Hope you like the chapter!

 **Astral Kai:** As you requested, I addressed you as Astral Kai. As I mentioned with JLBriggs, I've tried to spread his reasoning for looking her up all throughout the story. Since I've already gotten so many questions about it, though, I'll probably go back and try to clarify it a bit. The answers to your questions are in my answer to JLBriggs, so go ahead and read that. I like to imagine May would've answered him as much as she'd been comfortable telling him, and that's all he really should've expected from her. Okay, so, awkward as this is, this is the best comparison I can find for this whole ordeal to help you understand what's happened: so it's kind of like someone you've only known for a few months going to your house and going behind your back to look in your underwear drawer. It's unpleasant, a complete break on privacy, and there are plenty of things in there you don't want them to see. This is pretty much how May feels. Bucky went behind her back to look in her "underwear drawer". Sure, she didn't really tell him not to look there, but it's a no brainer. It's something that's just not supposed to be done. As for why she's so hurt and angered, that's explained further into detail in this chapter. And yeah, this was definitely bound to happen. I've been plotting how to get him to learn more about her and getting busted for it since even before this story was up. Hope that cleared some things up! Oh, and *darts eyes around inconspicuously then holds up a poster board* #mayinavengers !

It's true, I'm leaving for a month. I think it'll be good for me to get a break, though. Unfortunately, that means I won't be able to start posting Black Ice like previously planned, so I'll just figure something out between the two stories for when I get back. Sorry!

Well anyway, I should probably explain why it is you'll be waiting a month for the next update. I'm going to Germany! Last year my sister had an exchange student from Germany and we got to be friends, so I'm going up there to stay with her family for a month. Yay me! I'm so so very excited. This has kept me going all through the semester.

And, this gives you guys a good opportunity to go back through the books and re-read for things you might've missed the first time around. I can't currently remember any hidden things I added throughout the story, but I'm positive I put little things like that. It's just the kind of person I am ;)

 **Disclaimer: If I owned anything you recognize, I'd travel more often. So no, I don't.**

Chapter 20

Bucky's POV

Getting Drunk

(On Tabasco Sauce?)

A man typed on his laptop, in a room surrounded by people doing the same thing. At each click of their mouse a little pin of light appeared on the large world map being displayed on the wall-sized screen in front of them. And even still, other pinpricks of light disappeared as the people ruled them out as possibilities. Possibilities on where _she_ was. This man traced another search engine before it was cut abruptly off. It was enough time, though, that another pinprick of light appeared in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Yet another man, this one not typing but observing with a critical eye, spotted the light in such an unexpected place and kept his eye on it for a long time to come, waiting to see if it would be ruled out or not.

…

It was a week before she began talking to me again. Even then it was forced and short, nothing like it used to be. She no longer sat on her armchair to read while I did the same on the couch, and the little smiles after I made dinner no longer existed. It was a couple days after that, on Sunday, when I finally summoned up the courage to fix things between us.

There wasn't a Sunday walk like there used to be, just like there hadn't been one the week before, and I'd normally be in my room preparing for the healing session tomorrow, but I had more important things to do right now.

I approached her door, where she had receded earlier with a book, and knocked softly. Knocking had become a normal thing after I had walked in on her changing and seen her back, but now it just seemed to solidify the wall that had come up between us.

There wasn't an answer, but there wasn't a voice telling me to go away, so I entered. As I had expected she was laying back on her bed holding a book up above her. Her eyes slid over to me before going back to the book, not saying anything.

I took a breath, wondering the best way to breach this, and decided head-on would be best.

"Let's go out." Her eyes slid back over to me, this time surprised.

"Excuse me?" It's more than I had expected to get from her. I shifted on my feet awkwardly.

"I want to show you that I'm sorry. What I did was wrong, and I know it." She set a bookmark to keep her page and shut the book, sitting up to look at me.

"It _was_ wrong." I let out a quick breath. This was going a lot better than I had expected it to.

When she didn't say anything else and simply stayed there, I grew slightly irritated.

"What else do you expect me to do? I've said sorry, I won't do it again. How else can I make it up to you?" Her lips tightened and I saw anger in her eyes, but then her face softened and her shoulders fell from their rigid posture.

"I don't know," she confessed. "It's been confusing me for a few days. I seem to expect more from you than I even know to expect. I don't know what I want you to do." Her eyes raised to meet mine for the first time in too long. "I guess I'm just angry. And a bit betrayed, maybe." I realized, then, that she felt weak for letting HYDRA do what they did. She thought she was weak, and now she assumed I thought she was weak, too. There was a moment of silence, and then she straightened.

"When should we go?"

…

I had a plan, and she was no doubt not going to like it. It was simple, really, and yet bound to be so difficult: I wanted to get her drunk. Not only that, though, but in the process I wanted to somehow show her that I could still be trusted. And what better place to achieve these goals than a relatively low-key bar with good alcohol at a somewhat reasonable price?

As soon as she picked up on where we were going – I made a point of not telling her – she protested, once again declaring her hate of getting drunk. I led her to a table against the wall anyway, claiming that I hadn't said anything about her getting drunk. And I hadn't said anything; I'd only thought it.

"We're going to play a game," I told her. She gave me an irritated look, but it was still tame compared to the ones she used to give me, so I continued on. "It's called Two Truths and A Lie." Her look turned suspicious at the name of the game I used to bring up during dates, back when I was "Bucky". "It's pretty self-explanatory. You tell two truths and a lie of your choice, and I have to guess which one's wrong. If I'm wrong, I take a shot. Simple."

"No. That's not fair at all." She let out a huff upon realizing how loud she'd let her voice get, then leaned in so as not to gain any unneeded attention.

"You can't get drunk. I can. That's not fair." I had considered this, too. I leaned in as well, noticing how she backed up slightly so we didn't get too close to each other. I couldn't decide if that hurt, or how much it hurt.

"This is my way of asking," I said in a low voice. Understanding dawned on her face after just a moment, her hissed accusation back at the library coming back to both of our minds. She let out a quick sigh, muttered something under her breath that was most definitely a curse of some kind, and met my eyes again.

"Fine, but you're not drinking alcohol." Before I could ask she had raised her hand to summon a waiter.

"I need a steady supply of shots, and he needs a steady supply of…" she hesitated for a second before seeming to come to a decision. "Tabasco sauce." Her eyebrow rose slightly at the request, and mine followed suit as she shuffled away.

"Tabasco sauce?" She smirked, and if I wasn't so relieved at the glimpse of herself I would've been afraid of the implications.

"Yup." And that's all she gave. It'll have to do.

"So who starts?" She asked as the waiter put a line of shots in front of her and a full bottle of tabasco sauce in front of me with the same amused expression. I noticed that the waiter wasn't the only one amused by our order, as we were quickly pointed out by another of the employees to his friend.

"I'll ask first," I told her. She nodded, thought for a second, then gave her challenge.

"I've never been to a bar before. I have a favorite color, and I don't like flip flops." She didn't have any tells at all, unlike the people I vaguely remember playing this with before. There was no twitching or excessive blinking. She just looked me in the eye and stated all three. She had given an easy selection, though.

"That's easy," I accused. "You don't have a favorite color." She'd told me all three of those things in the past. She didn't say anything in reply.

"Your turn." I had already decided on my list, so I laid them out exactly as she did, making sure I didn't give any tells.

"My nickname used to be Jamie, I hate chocolate, and I like Linkin Park." She gave me easy ones, I'd give her easy ones.

"You love chocolate." Yes, I like Linkin Park. I'd listened to a few of their songs since May picked up the laptop a few days ago, after having seen them referenced in the magazine I'd been reading. So while she was away at work one day I looked them up and liked what I found.

"Chocolate's amazing," I stated. A corner of her mouth lifted slightly. I knew about her fetish for orange juice. My like for chocolate is similar to her like for orange juice.

We continued to take turns, and neither of us had gotten anything wrong yet, so we had lost the interest of the other employees. And I had noticed a pattern in her options: she never gave me any information about herself that I didn't already have. So I figured it was about time to stop that.

"Come on," I told her as she was about to lay out her next list. "Challenge me this time. Give me your best." And I could see in the defiance in her eyes and in the way she leaned forward that she had accepted.

"I prefer the hot over the cold, I don't like the flavor Birthday Cake, and I don't like Thursdays." I blinked. She'd never mentioned any of these things before. I frowned and thought through each option. It would make sense for her to prefer hot over cold, because of her time in cryo. I didn't know she'd ever had the flavor Birthday cake, and she'd never complained about Thursdays before. But with our past in HYDRA and the bland food served to us there, the chances of her disliking a taste like that were little.

"You like the flavor Birthday Cake." A triumphant smile burst on her face.

"Wrong! I prefer cold over hot. Drink up." I just looked at her, shocked.

"What's wrong with Thursdays?"

"Drink." So I did, and as I expected it had little effect on me. She didn't seem deterred, though. And I soon found out why. After that we both upped our game – once again gaining the attention of those around us – and both of us lost plenty of times.

My mouth began hurting about the same time she got tipsy, and I understood her choice. That way neither of us were at an advantage.

Of course, everyone around us was completely baffled on how we were both stomaching our drinks so well. Any normal person would've either been dead drunk or chugging milk by now, and yet we were only just getting started.

In the end, I was chugging milk and shoving tortillas down my throat – trying to get the burning to stop – and she was laughing drunkenly at me, a mountain of empty shot glasses and tabasco sauces on the table, and a crowd of amazed drunk observers who wouldn't remember any of this in the morning as our challenge had prompted many of them to begin their own.

My mouth became and stayed red even after I had gotten most of the spice away, and I hoped it wouldn't take too long to fade, but May seemed very much drunk. It was rather late by the time we exited the bar, and it's a good thing, too, because there weren't many people around to be disturbed by her incessant talking, half-sung tunes, and random bursts of hysterical laughter.

I couldn't help but look at her fondly, though, as she continued babbling to me about someone named "Prissy Lizzy", because I was now able to see her in a new light. Through all those games we had played I had learned more things about her, and I couldn't help but be amazed at how little I had known about her in the first place. And those were only the light things people list in games like the one we had played.

She didn't like mushrooms, she really liked when it rained while the sun was still out. She doesn't like holidays, but just the same she really likes Christmas. She's disturbed by how stupid people are without them realizing how much potential they have, and yet really admires how strong people are.

As the list continued in my mind, I noted that if she spoke half of what was on her mind she'd never stop talking. I admired the things she put up with because she doesn't like complaining or making excuses. All in all, I was in way over my head. I'd never been attracted to anyone so very much out of my league before. And the best part? She doesn't even know how great she is. It doesn't go to her head how beautiful she is in such a shy, timid, quietly-strong, _May_ way. She's humble enough not to know she's humble.

We made it back to the apartment and by then enough of the alcohol in her system had burned away for her to insist that she wasn't drunk, and that I was just crazy. She was definitely still drunk, though. Just not quite as drunk as earlier. I smiled as she stomped childishly into her room to change.

I followed her example, going into my room to change as well. It was after I had pulled on my shirt that I heard a little knock on my door followed by May walking in and settling herself on my bed.

I looked at her for a moment, then sat down on the bed as well.

"Do you need something?" she didn't meet my eyes, pulling her legs up to herself, and I recognized that she was protecting herself. She was bracing herself for the words she was about to say, and that pulled in my attention.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. My eyebrows raised a fraction, but I didn't say anything, prompting her to continue. "I was mad at you for looking me up, but I shouldn't have been. Not really." She let out a breath. "I know I hadn't told you not to, or anything, but I thought telling you not to would be the exact reason you would. So I didn't." Guilt tugged at my heart again at the expression on her face, but I still didn't say anything.

"It's just…" she didn't seem to know how to say the next part (and I'm sure being drunk didn't help her figure it out, either). "Everyone leaves me, Bucky," she finally said in a quiet heartbreaking voice. "Everyone always leaves me, and I was afraid…I'm just afraid that someday you'll leave me, too." Now I wanted to say something, but she didn't let me. "I thought that if you saw what they'd done to me; how _damaged_ I am, that you wouldn't want to stay with me anymore." Her eyes shot up to mine, and I was surprised at how clear they were.

"I know HYDRA did awful things to _both_ of us, and made _both_ of us do horrible things, but I just…I don't want to be alone." Her tears came abruptly, once again silent tears. They simply trailed down her face as she continued talking. "I'm so tired of being alone, Bucky. I don't want…" She hugged herself tighter and the first sob escaped her, breaking my heart. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. I can't be alone anymore. I just-I can't…I can't –" but the rest of what she was saying was muffled by my shirt because I couldn't watch her be in so much pain without comforting her; without trying to make it stop. She seemed to instinctively uncurl from herself and instead wrapped her arms around me, burying her head into my white Tshirt. I was baffled, and wondered if I had always been so caught off guard by a woman's mood swings. She certainly didn't _seem_ like the emotional type. Then it hit me.

Ah, she's the type of drunk with drastic mood swings.

"Shh," I hushed. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere." Another sob wracked her back so I continued. "Remember? You said that to me, too. You said you're not going anywhere, and neither am I. We're stuck together, May. Neither of us are going anywhere. Neither of us are going to be alone again."

No more sobs shook her back, but I knew she was still crying by the growing wet spot on my shirt. So just as she had done after my nightmare I settled us both down under the covers, not caring that the light was still on, and tried to get across to a message similar to the one she had tried to get across to me. Hers had been _I'm not going anywhere._

Mine was _I'm not leaving you._

…

Ha! Drunk May. I actually have no idea what it's like to get drunk since I don't drink alcohol, nor have I actually really seen anyone drunk, so I just did some research and hoped I made it realistic enough. *Shrug* Either way, drunk May was fun to write. Well, goodbye! Tschuss! Adios! See you all in about a month!


	21. Lazy Day

…sorry I've been gone so long. All I can say is that school's out, so I'm back. That's all I'm going to say. This Summer my editor and I plan on going through past chapters and fixing any mistakes, and I'll also be changing the formatting, so I won't be posting every week like I had been. I do, however, plan on finishing BtI before the next semester starts, so keep an eye open for any updates.

Big round of applause for my beta **AstralEnCaos** who was somehow able to look through this in the middle of final exams.

 **Disclaimer: No matter how many times I wish it, I do not own anything you recognize other than May and my plot.**

Chapter 21

Bucky's POV

Lazy Day

(And A Hangover)

Beeps and clicking sounds came from the machines in the dimly lit room. The map with little pinpricks of lights shone with a different pattern than there was the past week, and yet the lone spot in Raleigh remained.

The man narrowed his eyes at it. Nothing had come up yet to show that this wasn't the place she was located, but nothing had come up yet to show that it was. He was beginning to get impatient with the endless search.

…

I woke up to May calling in sick on her cell phone (which she had fallen asleep with in her pocket) after which she groaned something about hangovers, curled back up against me, and fell asleep. I didn't go back to sleep for a while after that, even though it was about time we usually work out, because there was a beautiful woman curled up sleeping against me. I wrapped my arm around her, feeling her back move slightly as she breathed softly from beneath my arm, her breath tickling my chest through my light shirt, then I rested my head above hers on the pillow.

Without realizing, I fell asleep to the sound of her breathing and when I woke again it was to the sun shining through the window and someone poking my chest softly. I realized that I had pretty much squished May against me and there was no way she could escape.

A chuckle rumbled from me and I was surprised to hear May's own laugh join my own. I released her and she sat up, stretching her arms above her with a yawn. I stayed down, enjoying the view, until her head turned and she met my gaze. A smirk crept up her face.

"You're a snuggler." My own smirk joined hers.

"Is that a problem?" Her smirk turned to surprise at my retort.

"No, I'm a snuggler, too, so it's fine." I chuckled again, which was followed by a smile from her. We got up after that, her having already recovered from her hangover. I was in the kitchen making breakfast (although it was nearly noon) while she set the table. The mundane task of setting up for a meal left me at ease. The damage done at the library seemed to have been resolved after last night, and I mentally patted myself on the back for the job well done.

Over breakfast May brought up a topic that was bound to pop up eventually.

"It's about time we relocate." She quickly explained her idea to relocate to a different part of town, but not leaving completely because of her job.

"I know it seems ridiculous, but I really like it there. We haven't gotten any attention here so far, and if we do we can leave. I just don't want to leave everything we've built up." She went quiet, waiting for my opinion, and I made sure to think it through.

The life we had built up here was simple and quiet. While it's true we hadn't visibly attracted attention, it's entirely possible we've just missed the signs. HYDRA's like a snake. It stays unseen until it strikes. Was our life here really worth the chance of our freedom? No, it wasn't.

But over our few months in the apartment May had remarked many times on how much she enjoyed this. She expressed a fondness for the life we'd built up that she hadn't shown for anything else. I knew that up until now her life was total and utter chaos. She'd never experienced such a smooth way of living before, and I didn't want to take that away from her.

I thought through these things for another minute or so before nodding slowly. Her face lit up and I couldn't bring myself to regret my decision. I just hoped I wouldn't be brought to regret it in the future.

"As soon as there's any sign of trouble, we're leaving." Her face turned serious and she nodded. I knew she took me seriously, too, because if anyone knew what HYDRA could do to people – especially its enemies – it was us, and neither of us wanted to go back to that.

The rest of the day was spent looking for a new apartment online. By the time the sun had begun its descent we had already decided on one, emailed the contact, and arranged to look at it after May finished work tomorrow.

Once the sun was below the horizon we entered her room and began the healing process. The week before May had insisted afterwards that I left the room while she suffered alone – which killed me even more than the silent treatment – but this time she allowed me to stay.

After the session she curled into me – not fighting my presence at all – while groans of pain escaped from between her clenched teeth. I could see her resistance growing as time went on, and where she used to give small shrieks she now only whimpered heart-breakingly. Her growing resistance didn't make me feel any better, though. In fact, it made me feel worse. It's my fault that she was enduring enough pain each week to raise her pain tolerance.

Once her sounds of pain and shuddering had calmed – late into the night – I began talking to her. I could've continued delving into my new memories, but the strain of looking – remembering – was making my head throb, so I instead chose to distract myself.

"How does it work?" I ask her.

"Hmm?" She hummed in question.

"Your healing." There was silence for a moment before she moved her face out of my shirt so she could talk clearly to me.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I know a bit." She stopped as her body shuddered in pain once again, but started as soon as it passed.

"The scientists would tell each other things, and I'd listen. I'd observe, too, whenever I could. Usually whenever they took me out of My Room they'd drug me, or they'd just have been experimenting on my reaction to certain drugs; whatever the situation they'd usually have me just clearing those drugs from my system when they'd test my ability, but sometimes the experiments were long enough that the drugs would all clear, and I could remember some of what went on." Another shudder passed through her, and this time I knew it wasn't caused by pain.

As my memories were being returned I was remembering more of my own experiments. By no means were they to the extent of May's, but they were awful nonetheless. The worst were the memories of getting my arm replaced or updated. The pain was excruciating, and more often than not I'd lose consciousness.

"I can heal all sorts of things. Anything to do with the body, but not things that are no longer a part of the body. I can't heal lost limbs or reattach lost limbs." I didn't realize that she was giving an indirect apology at not being able to heal my arm until much later. Late enough that it wouldn't make sense for me to clarify that even if she could, I wouldn't want her to. I didn't want her to go through the pain of losing an arm.

"Because once those things are gone, your mind doesn't really understand anything's wrong anymore. Not really. Our minds are smart; they adapt. Whenever I try to it's like their body rejects it; to their mind it feels like I'm trying to add something to their body that's not supposed to be there. Like if I was trying to give them a sixth toe." Once again she stopped as a shudder of pain went through her, but this one wasn't as bad as the last.

"I can also heal mental illnesses, but only some of them. Just like with body injuries, sometimes the mind just doesn't view things as a problem. If they're a part of the person, I can't heal it."

Something that had been nagging at me for a while made itself known at the end of her explanation.

"Can you only heal others?" She nodded easily.

"I can't heal myself."

"Why?" It blurted from me before I even realized I'd wondered, but I didn't mind. I found it very unfair and cruel that she was able to take the pain from others, but had to suffer her own pain without any relief.

When she answered this question she seemed more sure of it than she'd seemed with the other questions I'd asked so far.

"I can't heal myself because I'm taking that person's pain onto myself. When I 'heal' someone's cut I don't so much as heal that person, as take their cut onto myself. So I suppose in a sense I could heal myself, but I'd just be giving my own pain back to myself, which isn't very helpful at all." Her wrist twitched against me but I ignored it as she continued her explanation.

"I do heal faster from other's pain, though. I don't think the scientists were ever entirely sure why, but it just makes sense to me. I heal faster from other's pain because it's not my own. And then the serum heals my injuries quickly – both my own and the pain I take from others." And that's why the pain she takes from my mind each week – even just a memory – only takes her a few hours to recover from, where I would've been writhing all day.

"But even though it hurts," she continued, "And it's the reason Hydra took me, I'm really glad I got my ability. It means I can help people. I can help people recover from things they never would've recovered from before. It means I can _save_ people." I rested my chin on her hair, and I felt something growing inside of me that I hadn't felt in a very long time.

I blocked the feeling out, and instead focused on the girl I held in my arms.


	22. There's A First For Everything

Hello again, dear people. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get this chapter posted, but here it is. I'm currently in Italy, which is amazing, but since I'm in no man's land currently the internet is questionable. Quick question, is there anything you'd like to learn about May and Bucky that I can put in the small beginning parts? Otherwise I'll just keep putting whatever comes to me.

Thanks once again to **AstralKai** for going through this for me and giving me priceless tips about my writing. I don't know where I'd be without you :)

 **Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I actually don't own anything you recognize. I only own any OC's and my plot.**

Chapter 22

There's A First For Everything

(Even Things You're Fine Without)

 _Go to sleep, and good night…_

There was an overwhelming feeling of sadness that met me when I woke up in My Room often times. A feeling of sadness so thick I couldn't breath and heavy enough that I didn't want to. It was the sadness that followed dreams of my family, of how life was before things were too bad. This time, though, tears soaked my face and a song lingered in my mind. A nursery song I sang in the dark hours of the morning when Tommy woke from nightmares, which I later used to calm myself when he was dead. A simple pleasant lullaby turned dark and evil by pain and loss was now my only comfort as I voiced the tune.

 _You are my little baby…_

…

I sat up abruptly in my bed, the darkness in the room thick, so I guessed it was the early hours of the morning. The reason I had woken up made itself known once again, and I quickly got out of bed and hurried to Bucky's room in the dark.

He wasn't thrashing around this time, so I didn't have to hold him down – luckily; whenever I do I tend to end up getting introduced to the wall – so I simply called his name.

"Bucky, Bucky wake up." He groaned as if in pain, so I grabbed his shoulder and began shaking it as well. "You're okay Bucky. You just have to wake up." And he slowly did.

Once he was again aware I released him. "You were making noises again." There really wasn't any reason to tell him that, since our nights had been like this pretty much ever since we moved to the apartment a couple weeks ago.

"Want to talk about it?" As predicted, he shook his head. Also predicted, he pulled the end of his blanket up to let me in. At first my sleeping in the same bed as him was only occasional to help him calm down after the nightmare, but eventually he'd started waking up multiple times a night, and staying with him seemed to help them somewhat.

So I crawled in with him, immediately taking my place against him where he rested his arm on top of me. Guilt gnawed at me as his breath evened out again while I stayed awake, because I knew that this was at least partially my fault.

I'd felt the stress building in his mind for weeks now, and I have no doubt that the stress is related to his constant nightmares. I just didn't know what to do about it. I've read psychology books, textbooks on neurology, all of the above. There's just not a lot on how to go about 'magically' healing someone's electrically damaged brain correctly.

It killed me to leave him for work each day. He never said anything about being alone, but I could feel it. I could feel just a slight twinge at the panic he'd feel whenever I left the door, afraid that I'd be found by someone and he'd be left alone. I felt like I was torturing him slowly and painfully, and that in turn was torturing me.

After work the following day I didn't even bother going into my own bed. I just followed him right into his, figuring it'd be more convenient this way, and it was. This arrangement worked for about a week until an especially vicious dream he had, where he nearly punched my head off with his metal arm. This wasn't the first time it seemed like he'd do it, unfortunately, but this is the only time I actually feared for my life.

Finally, it was enough. It couldn't go on like this anymore. His nightmares were getting worse, and aside from worrying that he'd injure me I was worried that he'd injure himself as well.

So the morning after the ordeal – he'd refused to go back to sleep after he'd realized what he'd nearly done – I told him my solution.

"We're not going to have healing sessions anymore." Instead of looking upset or angry, like I'd expected him to, he almost looked relieved, and I felt guilt punch me in the gut once again.

"Maybe we'll continue them again in the future, but not until things calm down." And they did. After nearly three weeks of no healing sessions his nightmares had all but disappeared. I no longer had to join him every night, and we were no longer exhausted all day from the pitiful amounts of sleep we were getting.

I decided on a compromise after analyzing the situation and settled that I'd only heal him from now on every other week. If there was any sign of the stress returning I'd lengthen it to once every three weeks. He agreed with the plan.

I couldn't help but miss his presence as I slept, though, and I knew it was selfish but on some nights when I suffered from my own nightmares I almost wished I'd hear him crying out in his sleep so I could join him. I was often tempted to join him simply for my own comfort, before chiding myself and forcing sleep to return.

After the healing compromise was figured out we were finally able to reset our living style. Things were no longer stressed, both of us were well rested, and tempers were no longer running high. Things returned to how they had been before moving, and I was grateful.

Then one day at work Henry finally built up the courage to ask me out on a date himself – without any 'backstage support' – and what could I do but agree?

…

I texted Bucky after work that I was going to Mimi's house instead of back to the apartment and would likely be out late so he didn't need to wait up for me, and once again he didn't answer, but I knew he always got my texts.

A squealing Mimi insisted that I come to her house and let her get me ready. I was hesitant to this idea at first, but figured it would be best if I did. Not only for the help – I'd never been on a date before, and I didn't know what's expected in the 21st century, so what little bit I _did_ know could easily be something that's been outdated for a few decades – but also because then Henry would pick me up at Mimi's house: I doubted Bucky would like me giving away our address to anyone, date or no date.

Ah, this is complicated. I was socially inept in my own century, let alone this century.

I explained to Mimi that Henry was planning on taking me to a movie I hadn't heard of before and perhaps stopping for dinner after, so a couple hours after arriving at her house I looked into the mirror to see someone that wasn't familiar at all and yet looked so very much like me at the same time. She had lent me a loose green shirt with half sleeves at my insistence (to cover my scars). My hair was done as well in a simple half-up, and a light dusting of makeup highlighted my features, accentuating what was already there but hidden by familiarity, leaving me with my obvious Italian traits and yet looking oddly very much like my English mother.

"Oh Mimi…" I'm very often speechless, but usually it's because I'm clueless on what's supposed to be said next. Now I just couldn't say anything, and yet there was so much to be said. "I don't know what to say." She sent me a quick smile through the mirror, then lifted her eyebrows haughtily.

"You can worship me for the rest of your life. Give me your firstborn. Y'know, the such." I blinked at her, wondering what on earth she was talking about, then her face went back to normal and she smiled.

"Thanks is enough." I smiled back at her.

"You're the best, Mimi."

…

Mimi and I were able to just hang out for a short while before he got there, and it's the first time I'd done that with anyone, really – anyone who's not Bucky – and it was nice to giggle about nothing and watch her twin sisters argue about absolutely everything.

Her mother was a nice lady who worked from her home. She was a single mother – the father took off when the twins were born – and working from home was the easiest way for her to both make money and raise a family. I admired her for her hard work, and I made sure to tell her that.

As the time came closer knots rolled around and grew tighter in my stomach, and I wasn't sure if these were the butterflies I'd heard so much about. It felt like normal nervousness to me, really.

When the doorbell finally rang everyone wished me luck, and I was sure I needed it. Henry had dressed fancy-casual (that's what Mimi called it) as well, and I was glad Mimi knew what she was doing even if her own love life didn't appear to work out. His eyes widened fractionally to my satisfaction when he saw me and I mentally thanked Mimi again as I made my way to his car.

"You look nice," he said, his voice a good octave higher than it was normally. I smiled and thanked him. I was surprised, really, since he really didn't talk to me very much at work. In fact I'd half-hoped that his attraction towards me would fade with time and was guilty of feeling rather disappointed when he'd finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.

Even if I did feel any attraction towards him, I'd be conflicted on whether or not to actually involve him in the chaos I call my life. No, relationships may be a nice thing, but it's not something for me.

But even as I thought that I couldn't help but think of Bucky. A relationship with Bucky wouldn't be too bad, and he's already involved in all aspects of my life, so I wouldn't be dragging him further down than he already was.

I forced the thought out of my head as soon as it came, and focused on the small talk Henry was trying to turn into a conversation. The drive was over quickly – thank goodness – and we stopped in front of a large building that I assumed was the theatre. I'd seen very few films in my life, and from what I've seen of the 21st century, the chances of modern films being the same as the films I knew about were little to none, and I was right.

I'd watched plenty of commercials and even a few documentaries in my quest to get acquainted with the new century, but this was shockingly different than those things. It was like looking through a window into these people's lives. There was full color, the sound effects were amazing, and it sounded almost like the people were speaking from the seat right next to me. It was amazing. Technology may have its downsides, but it definitely has its perks as well.

It was a light-hearted movie – comedy – and Henry and I were able to laugh all throughout. It was nice, and for a while I was able to forget that this was actually a date, and not just hanging out with a friend. Because that's all Henry really was to me. He was nice, but I didn't see him ever getting past that friend stage. It was nice to be distracted from that for a while.

It ended too soon, and we were back in the car.

"I didn't ask before, but do you like Chinese food? I know a good place nearby." Hmm. I shrugged.

"I've never had Chinese food before." His eyes widened and he shot me a look quickly before turning back to the road.

"What?!" I'd learned quickly that "What?" is usually asked as a rhetorical question, so it's best not to say anything and simply let the person elaborate on their own time. As always, this method worked.

"Well it's decided then. No one can get away without trying Chinese for long." Well I'd gotten away with it for nearly a century, but I didn't say that, simply smiling humorously at him.

After Henry showed me how to correctly operate chopsticks I went through the list of things in the 21st century I couldn't live without: clear blue skies, orange juice, great libraries, Chinese food…the list was growing rapidly.

I was pleasantly full with noodles, chicken slathered in sauce, and a variety of other odd things (I'd refused to even consider eating the heart-breaking little octopuses), so the two of us simply sat and talked for a while. The time melted away, and I was surprised to find myself reluctant to tell him that I should head home. He understood – considering how it really was getting rather late – and he paid the bill.

I understood that since he had asked me out on the date it was only proper for him to pay the full bill, but the independent side of me that I had nurtured so well after escaping from HYDRA was itching to split the bill in half. I muffled the urge, and as I directed him to the apartment building Bucky and I had most recently taken up residency in we continued our conversations from the restaurant.

He told me about his family, and how he'd moved out to attend a nearby college. His family was surprisingly large – four siblings – considering the day and age, and I bit my tongue from telling him stories about Tommy in return, figuring it would raise too many questions. Instead, I kept him talking about himself (using many Bucky-inspired tactics in doing so) and he didn't seem to mind.

We finally pulled up in front of the large off-white building and he led me to the front. I insisted that he didn't need to take me all the way to my apartment – that would no doubt be stretching Bucky a little thin – and I turned to go inside after bidding him goodnight…

…only he caught hold of my hand really quick before I could go through the door.

"Amber, tonight was really fun." I didn't say anything, waiting for him to get to the punch. "I was hoping we could do it again?" He wanted to do this again? It was fun and all, but I really wasn't interested in romance currently. I didn't let this show on my face, though.

"I don't know, maybe." His face fell a little bit, but determination rose in his eyes. I predicted his next move a moment before even he did, and I was moving my head back even as he brought his forward in what was no-doubt supposed to be a clumsy good-night kiss.

He got a dejected look on his face and began his retreat, so I naturally felt the need to explain myself to him.

"I'm waiting for the right person." I had waited a very long time to give my first kiss away, and I figured a little longer for someone special wouldn't hurt. I'd gone over half a century already, so what's a bit longer?

The dejected look stayed on his face, and he continued his retreat, but he nodded.

"No, yeah, I understand. Sorry." I almost called him back out of pity, but held my tongue, and before I could rethink my silence he was driving away. I sighed. He'd find someone eventually, but that someone wasn't me.

I turned back towards the building and successfully made it through the door this time. I sent a small wave to the man behind the desk and took the stairs to the third floor. This apartment wasn't quite as nice as the one we'd left behind, but after a while it had gradually begun to feel like home as well, and that was enough for me.

I hadn't realized how late it had gotten until I was face-to-face with an angry looking Bucky. As soon as I opened the door he somehow materialized in front of me with a large frown on his face.

"What?" I asked as I shut the door, toeing my shoes off and guiding them to sit neatly beside the door.

"Where were you? Do you know how late it is?" I instinctively pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time, surprised that it had already passed midnight. Whoa, Henry and I must've talked for longer than I thought. I wasn't entirely sure if his second question was rhetorical, though, so I only answered the first one.

"I was on a date. Didn't you get my text?" He always got my texts, so I was slightly worried about what might've happened to have caused him not to see it. But he nodded, making confusion crash on me all over again. If he got my text, what's this all about?

"It said you were going to Mimi's after work, then staying out late after that and not to wait up for you." Which brings up the question on why he had in fact waited up for me. I narrowed my eyes at him abruptly, scrutinizing him. I considered him for a moment, then opened my mouth accusingly.

"Are you patronizing me? Is this how dads are supposed to act?" His eyes widened in surprise and I took the opportunity to go past him and make my way through the living room to my door, stretching my arms out in front of me. Now aware of the time, exhaustion was creeping itself into my system.

I lifted a hand to cover a yawn as I opened the door, muttering a quick "Good night" before shutting the door and changing into pajamas quickly so I could collapse in the bed, reminding myself as I drifted off that Henry would find someone someday. That person just wasn't me.

…

Okay, as promised my editor and I have begun going over No One again for editing. Things are going a bit slow for BtI because of the internet problems (believe it or not I had tried getting this posted last week but just haven't had internet until now), but I've kept writing it on my own so I've gotten ahead a bit. I'm also working on a Gakuen Alice fic, for anyone interested in anime. I watched it ages ago and just fell in love with the plot line.

Chi vediamo.


	23. Foreign Emotions

Hello again. Did you miss me? I come bearing lots of fluff, so forgive my absence. Just a quick spoiler that this'll be the last fluff for a while. The storyline is approaching its end, which means there are a lot of ends that need wrapping up so less room for little cute moments. In other words, soak the fluff in while you can!

 **Eunoiapaint:** Thanks for dropping the review. Don't worry, I smell them getting together soon (but not without a random unexpected twist, of course). Fluff, granted!

 **Dislcaimer: I still don't own anything you recognize, only any OCs and my plot.**

Foreign Emotions

(And Bridging The Gap)

Chapter 23

Bucky's POV

I can remember the experimentation now. Not when I was with Hydra, but when my regiment had been captured. The initial pain was so much worse than when I was subjected to it later on, because I'd never felt pain like that before. I'd never experienced the pain of having someone tamper with my mind, or the searing of chemicals pulsing through my veins. And over my short time under Zola's torture I could feel something else growing inside of me. Something trying to erase who I was and turn me into something else. I'd already become the Winter Soldier before I fell off the train. True, not to the extent that I would become later, but it was there, inside of me.

…

I lay in bed for hours, just looking at the ceiling. I knew I should sleep, but it wouldn't come. There was a war raging inside of me, and I didn't even know why. Emotions I hadn't felt since I was _Bucky_ were curling up and snapping inside of me, and I frowned as I tried to remember what they were.

I sighed and shut my eyes. Is this what May always feels like? Knowing you know something, but being unable to grasp it anyway? It's frustrating.

At the thought of May a pang went through me and I frowned once more, trying to identify the odd emotions.

She was on a _date._ With a _person._ And it wasn't _me._ My eyes snapped open and I sat up. Is that it? I'm just jealous? A frustrated growl escaped me as I got up and started pacing, the ceiling suddenly entirely too boring to be looking at.

But why would I be upset about her going on a date with someone? It's not like we were attracted to each other, or anything. She's completely free to do whatever she wants.

So then why was it bothering me so much?

The night was spent on the same thought process, and when I eventually fell asleep it was with troubled dreams chasing after May only to see it was someone else when I finally caught up to her. It was exhausting.

The night finally finished, and I was done getting ready for our workout before May, so while waiting in the living room I calmed my whirling thoughts, determined not to waste any more time worrying about something as trivial as emotions.

Still, when she came out it bothered me how she went about like nothing was wrong. And I guess for her nothing was wrong.

The park we had taken to working out in was large enough not to be considered small, but just barely. I worried that someone would see us through the thin trees, but May reasoned that the only people awake at this hour are on their way to or from work, or the homeless. Considering the homeless were the only ones that would pay us any mind, she further explained that no one listens to the homeless.

It struck me for a moment that she was speaking from experience.

We fought freely for hours, and adrenaline hummed through my veins at having an opponent that matched my strength. Though she insisted that she was weaker than me – and she was – and shorter than me – she definitely was – her quick thoughts and craftiness made up of for all of that. Often times she used her lack in height to gain the upper-hand and made up for the strength differences by using my momentum against myself, rather than facing me head on.

In other words, it usually came as both a relief and a disappointment when our workouts finished. We grabbed our bottles of water and while I took a drink I watched her wipe some sweat off of her forehead.

I couldn't really blame the guy from last night for asking her out, though. She was nice, smart, pretty.

We began walking back to our apartment and she took the lead since I was still lost in thoughts. More of May's attributes flitted through my mind as I trailed after her. Hardworking, petite in a cute way…

…she also has a really nice butt.

My eyes snapped up from where they had drifted and I sped up my walk so I was beside her, eliminating the possibility of my mind drifting in that direction again.

"Are you alright? You seem rather out of it." Her voice surprised me, but I was nonetheless grateful for the reason to stop thinking.

"I'm fine," was my immediate response. Her lips quirked upwards and she shot me a look.

"When people say they're fine, they're usually not." It was a simple observation; an invitation to share my thoughts. There wasn't any pressure to pry open my mind, and that's another thing I added to my list: she's thoughtful, too.

"I had the thought," she said, pulling me from my thoughts once again. "That you should start writing down the things you remember, in case it can help spring more memories naturally." I'd had that thought, too, only for different reasons; I was afraid that Hydra might get to me again someday and make me forget everything again. Then, at least I wouldn't be back at square one. I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I've thought about that, too." So on our way back we stopped at a little corner store and picked up half a dozen notebooks, a package of mechanical pencils, and a small backpack that could hold them easily.

"Voila," she said as we walked out of the store. "Memory loss cure in a backpack." I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, because I sincerely doubted the notebooks would do any more help than she already had.

That night we didn't have a healing session since we did last week, so instead we decided to take the time to fill the notebooks with anything I'd already remembered.

"It feels like so long ago that we were living in motels," she said from her spot next to me on the couch. A notebook was open on my lap with a couple pages already filled. I nodded in agreement. It really had been quite a while since then. Nearly a year had passed since the helicarrier incident; nearly a year that Hydra hadn't managed to catch up with us. It seemed too good to be true.

"I've begun to remember more about my brothers," I told her. She remembered them – the tombstones from Brooklyn also marked with Barnes, but surrounded by their own families unlike mine. Currently we were writing everything I could remember about my family. And by "we" I meant that I was writing everything I could remember, and she was helping me get through the difficult parts.

It was nearly an hour later that I reached the really touchy subjects. May had taken over writing a while ago, when my writing had become too shaky to read.

"I had more of my arm at first, but they kept cutting more off with each new version," I told her. The arm is connected to my flesh, so to completely remove it they had to chop off the flesh it was connected to. "They never used any painkillers, so eventually I'd pass out." My voice was getting quieter, more hoarse, and I didn't think I could go on. Faces were flashing through my mind, the hazy memory of pain tingled in bits of my arm that I no longer had. May sent me a glance, then put the notebook down almost hesitantly.

"Can I see it?" It was voiced quietly, without any judgment. She made it sound so simple that she could've been asking for the weather. But it was so much more complicated than that.

I opened my mouth to snap at her that she couldn't, but there was worry in her eyes. Worry that she had crossed an invisible boundary, and I let out a breath. I trusted her. But did she trust me?

"I'll show you," I said slowly, testing the waters. "If you show me." Immediately I saw in her eyes as she fought the same battle I had just fought myself about whether to show off her scars, but seemed to come to the same conclusion I had, which sent something similar to pride though my chest. There's no way the guy from last night had her trust. I won. A smirk almost found its way to my face until I remembered what I had just agreed to, and I grew grim once again. Never before had someone asked to see my scar, and suddenly I was self-conscious.

Mustering up my courage I left the comfort of the couch. She followed me as I walked past the coffee table littered with notebooks and pencils, then I gripped the back of my shirt and slipped it off, tossing it back where I had been sitting. I still had a black tank top on blocking her view from the scar, and my courage faded for a moment. What if she thinks it's disgusting? What if it reminds her of Hydra and she doesn't want to see me again? They were completely unfounded fears, but they were my fears nonetheless.

"You don't have to," she reminded me softly. "Not unless you want to." Looking deep into her sincere eyes, I realized that I _did_ want to. I wanted to show her the part of me that scared everyone away, simply because I knew it wouldn't scare her away. She'd already proven herself to me many times over. Showing her this part of me wouldn't do anything but further solidify my trust in her, and perhaps even her trust in me.

Taking a deep breath, I took the back of my tank top as well and pulled it off, watching her face as she immediately found it. Her eyes widened slightly and mine snapped down to it quickly, now looking at it as if through her eyes.

It was hideous. I grit my teeth and looked away, so I didn't notice as she moved closer until there was a tiny cold spot where I knew my scar was. I snapped my head up to her so fast I was worried I'd cause her to pull her finger away, but she only moved closer.

Her fingers explored my scar for a moment longer and it was almost pleasant how carefully she touched me, without causing any pain at all. Almost too quickly her attention turned instead to the metal of my arm, and her fingers were just as light on it as they were on the scar, as if she was worried she'd break the very thing that could snap her in half.

"Can you feel me?" she breathed, and I shivered slightly as I nodded. She was hardly putting any pressure in her touch, but the metal was created to be even more sensitive to pressure and temperature than my human skin was. Her finger went up to trace the blood-red star on my shoulder, before spreading her dainty hand out and covering it completely.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, and I felt light headed, because she wasn't scared of me. This thing that had been designed to kill, she was probably the only one who has seen anything good in it. She thought it was _beautiful._

She looked up at me, leaving her hand where it was, and stared into my eyes as intently as I was staring into hers. From here I could see all of the different shades of brown in her eyes, all the different layers, and if my arm was beautiful her eyes were stunning.

She broke our gaze and pulled away from me, my metal arm almost feeling cold without her touch. I wanted to keep the contact, but instead pulled my tank top back on, leaving my shirt since it was over on the couch.

"Your turn," I quietly reminded her. She pursed her lips slightly, then slowly gripped the bottom of her Tshirt. I suddenly realized what I was asking her to do, and quickly grabbed her hands to stop them.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I echoed her words from earlier. She wouldn't meet my gaze.

"I had to strip for Hydra all the time. I'm used to it." Those bastards. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

"I'm not Hydra. You don't have to if you don't want to." At that she looked up at me through her eyelashes and nodded. When I released her hands she continued to move them up, and I looked away for her privacy.

I couldn't resist for long and looked up, and found myself both relieved and bummed to find she was wearing a modest white sports bra, though I still felt my eyes dilate at the sight of her. To distract myself I turned my attention quickly to the scars and had to avert my gaze once again. I had seen the scars on her back before, and the ones on her front were just as bad.

Looking up at her once again I sucked in my breath sharply. These ones were more organized than the ones on her back from what I remembered seeing so long ago. They were perfectly straight and relatively thin, like they had been unprofessionally or hastily sewn shut. Seemingly random perfectly straight scars decorated her torso and stomach, some on her arms and the thick one I had spotted before. The worst one ran from above her sternum past her stomach, and I felt sick because it looked like she had been gutted like a fish. Her back was definitely worse, though. There were just as many surgically precise scars, the most prominent being a long gnarly one running the length of her spine.

Worse than that were the many scars interrupting those in thick spurts, cross-crossing with them the whole length of her back. I reached up and traced one of those in the same way she had gently touched my own scar and I watched a shiver run up her scarred spine.

"What are these from?" I asked her, tracing more still. I could guess, but I really didn't want to.

"Punishments," she said softly. "For failing on missions, or making them angry." My jaws clenched together as my eyes narrowed. They were whip marks. The whip had only been taken to me rarely, now that I was remembering more of my time with Hydra, but only back when I was still fighting to be Bucky. After that they must not have seen the point in punishing me if I'd just forget it the next time they wiped me.

I pulled my hand away and she put her shirt back on, covering the scars, but I could still see them every time I closed my eyes. The thought of what Hydra had been doing to us for so long made me feel sick.

Giving up on writing any more for the night we went our separate ways for bed, but I could feel that a large gap between us had been closed. So despite everything that had just gone on, I couldn't help but smile as I lay down for bed, because there was no way that guy from last night would ever be competition at this rate.

…

The first chapter of my Gakuen Alice fic should be up within the day, so again if you're interested keep your eyes open. I will admit that the anime is aimed at a younger audience, but the storyline is what got me. If you're interested but can't stand the anime trust me when I say the manga is better. Otherwise, stay tuned for more BtI.


	24. In The Blink Of An Eye

**Guest: Thank you so much for the kind words, and I'm really glad you're liking my stories :)**

Okay, so while my beta was going through this chapter she warned me that I occasionally use British English spelling even though I primarily use American English. So, just warning you, if you ever see "incorrect" spelling, it may just be that I've spelt it the British way. You've been warned. So yes, a big round of applause for my wonderful beta AstralEnCaos who's worked to make the reading process easier for you lot.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my plot and any OCs.**

In The Blink Of An Eye

(Everything Goes South)

Chapter 24

Mimi's POV

"Your hubby's back," I told the girl who was helping me clear the messy tables. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to where tall, dark and handsome was, then snapped her head back over to me.

"We're not in a relationship." I sent her an _are-you-sure-about-that?_ look before rolling my eyes.

"You keep telling yourself that. Henry's already told me all about how you left him hanging the other night. But hey, if it's for _him_ I can't blame you." Mr. Gorgeous came over and stood next to AJ.

"Hello Mimi," he said. Though it was polite I still couldn't help but think he'd never really forgiven me for the whole angel costume thing.

"Hey Dan," I answered nonchalantly. But seriously, what did this girl do? The guys were all over her! I grumbled something that wasn't really a word, but somewhere on some planet it was a curse to all girls who hogged the guys to themselves. I caught AJ giving me an amused look but didn't grace her with a reply.

"What are you doing here?" She shot at him. He did a one armed shrug and seemed very content to leave it at that until she gave him a look clearly demanding more.

"I got bored back at the apartment." So he lived on his own? Good, at least he wasn't living in his parents' basement. I'd dated a few guys who did, and they'd never ended well. But none of my relationships did, really.

"Are we out of books?" He shook his head, but I'd gone on overdrive and wasn't paying attention anymore. We? Apartment?

"You guys _live_ together?!" It wasn't quite a screech, but it nearly was. Good thing it was a slow hour and I only disturbed a few customers. I lowered my voice again.

"And you went on a date with Henry?" Oh, I do hope I hadn't just completely ruined her and Dan's relationship. But if she was cheating on a guy who looked like _that_ then she didn't know what was good for her. Her eyebrows flew up as she frantically shook her head.

"I told you it's not like that!" She leaned in and hissed at me. "We're not in a relationship!" And I'd be darned if Dan's smirk could get any bigger. I gave her the _are-you-sure-about-that?_ look again and she threw her arms up in exasperation.

"You know what, my shift's almost over. I'm going to go change." She left quickly with a chuckling Dan following after her, and Henry suddenly materialized next to me.

"There's something off about that one," he said about Dan. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't think too much about it. People like us always lose to people like them. It's called social hierarchy, brother. Don't be a sour loser."

"I don't mean that," though his voice did crack slightly in that statement. "I just mean…I don't know. You know in the news you see all these pictures of guys who beat their girlfriends and everyone's all like, 'I should've known. It seems so obvious now,' but the fact is that they missed it?" I didn't like where this was going. "He looks like one of those guys." And though I wanted to deny it, as I watched them leave the building together and AJ waved at me quickly before walking out of the doors, I couldn't help but agree that there was something dark about him. Like he had hurt people in the past.

As I walked home later that day Henry's words still plagued me. Maybe that's why I saw the poster. I usually walked right past the neighborhood bulletin without so much as a second glance, but this time something caught my eye.

I turned right back around and skimmed over the missing dog posters, and the fundraiser fliers until I found it. I grabbed it quickly and ripped it free from its tacks, pulling it from behind a different poster, and froze at what I saw.

There was AJ looking back at me with a straight face and long hair above a phone number to contact with any information. Even though it was a black and white picture and she was a bit younger in it, I knew the picture was of her.

I staggered back a few steps and then sat down quickly on the nearby fence as my legs gave out. Why was AJ on a missing person poster, and who was the handsome yet dangerous-looking person she was living with?

…

May's POV

It happened while I was making dinner. Bucky had stepped out for a while, so I figured he had gone on a walk, but I wasn't concerned. It had only been a few days since we showed each other our scars, and we were closer than we had been ever before. Just the same, he had forgotten his phone on the table which I eyed with mild concern. Even though things had been quiet for nearly a year now, it still worried me that Bucky didn't have a way to contact me if anything went wrong. I finished slicing the mushrooms and lowered the knife I was using, raising my other hand to rest above my lips.

The night of the Costume Ball came to mind, and how close we had come to kissing outside the apartment. Maybe a relationship wouldn't be so bad. As long as it was with Bucky.

Just then loud pounding came from outside in the halls, like someone was running from a ghost; running for their life. Panic raced through me and I raised the knife again. I made my way over to the living room, facing the door, afraid Hydra had finally caught up to us. Where was Bucky? Had they already gotten to him?

Adrenaline pumped through me as the thudding stopped outside the door and jumped when it was pounded on. They were trying to break it down!

"May, it's me. Let me in!" Bucky? Confusion and relief flooded me at hearing his voice and I raced over to the door. What happened to him, and why wasn't he using his key to get in? I unlocked the door, but before I could ask him any questions he had raced in and opened the closet that we kept our emergency bags in. The worry returned with full force and I followed him, putting the knife down quickly yet reluctantly on the table.

"What happened?" I demanded as he shoved my backpack into my hands. He looked at me for a moment before going into his room for things that weren't in the backpack, and the fear I saw there shook me to the bone.

"They've found us, they know where we are. We have to go _now._ "

I followed his lead and ran to my room, shoving my good shoes on because I wouldn't need them for work any longer, but we no doubt had a lot of running ahead of us. Next I grabbed the laptop, stuffing Bucky's cell phone into my pocket from the coffee table, and all of our cash which I shoved into the backpack just as Bucky emerged from the kitchen with all the food and water he could fit in his backpack. I followed his lead, and put as much as I could into mine.

"Do you have your notebooks?" I asked him as we turned all of the lights off, trying to make the place look empty, then turned to the door. He nodded, then looked out the peephole before opening the door and going out. We crept down the hall silently, listening for any sounds, during which my mind was whirling with questions.

"How do you know?" I asked him in a whisper. Without looking at me he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from one of his pockets and shoved it at me. I took it and straightened it out while we took the stairs down to the floor level.

I didn't know when that picture in particular had been taken, but it must've been some time ago since I looked considerably younger in it; perhaps a good five years younger than I looked now.

This must mean that Hydra knows our general location, but not exactly where we were. At least not yet. So they put up posters for civilian intel…something didn't add up.

"Bucky," I hissed at him after we made out of the building. "I don't think it's Hydra." He shot me a look and then pulled me into a dark alley, lit only by the quickly fading sun. Our first mistake.

"You know how Hydra is," I explained. "They'd never do anything as conspicuous as put out posters. Especially not so soon after DC." His face grew darker at my words and he opened his mouth to say something. What he was going to say, I'll never know, because just then there was a shout from the other end of the alley.

"It's them! They're here!" Fear flooded through me as fast as adrenaline, and I was off running in the opposite direction even before Bucky had cussed and told me to follow him. We both knew where all of our planned escape routes were, though, so he fell into step beside me in just a moment and before we knew it we were on open land, no longer having any buildings to shield us.

I heard more feet pounding behind us, but we were faster than them. The large patch of trees we were aiming for was growing closer and for a moment I thought we would make it. I thought too soon.

The sound of a car rose above the men's pounding feet and I shot a look behind us quickly.

"Two rovers gaining fast!" I called to Bucky. He put on another burst of speed and I struggled to keep up with him. He was faster than me, and it was beginning to show. I lagged behind him slightly, then forced myself to go even faster to match his pace. He sent me a worried glance but I ignored it, focusing on our destination.

The cars were faster than the men and soon they pulled passed the group following. Gunshots sounded and I braced myself, only to find that they weren't being aimed at us. I looked behind us to find the group of men falling under the rain of bullets as the rovers circled around them and dread filled me. This wasn't the same group, and by the looks of the suits they were wearing, they were much more dangerous. I scanned the rovers quickly and dread built up in me because I knew the type. It was familiar from missions. Hydra.

I met Bucky's grim eyes for a moment and knew he had seen them, too. We silently began running faster, but it didn't make much of a difference when the drivers turned their attention back on us when the men had all either hidden or lay still on the ground.

They wouldn't be able to follow us into the trees, but there was no way we'd make it into them before Hydra caught up to us.

I yelped when bullets sprayed the ground just behind me, and I began evasive maneuvers. This was by far the least ideal escape route we had made, but it was the only somewhat-realistic one from the back of the building, which is the one we took. The plan was to get from this end of the city to the other quickly by cutting through a patch of trees and taking the bus or train station located there where we could quickly hitch a ride to a few cities over. The only problem was now, the most dangerous part of this route, since there weren't any buildings to hide behind. We were left only with open land, large patches of shrubbery, and the occasional spattering of trees. The chances of the two of us being hit were large. But we were two super-soldiers. I'd be darned if we were taken again simply because they had guns.

Speaking of guns, Bucky had just pulled out a couple of his many guns, passing one to me quickly as the trees came ever closer and the gap between us and the rovers got smaller.

"Aim for the tires!" He called to me, as he himself started taking out the shooters. I shot a look behind me, scoping out the positions, then twisted around with the gun and fired off a couple shots. One of them hit true, and the car fell behind as the air escaped from one of the front tires. To my surprise, once the driver regained control he once again stepped on it anyway. Fine. Be like that.

"Keep going!" I instructed Bucky, then stopped to take cover behind a tree. Bullets began raining down on it, so I ducked down and took aim from lower down. I could see Bucky continue his own assault on the second car, so I focused only on this.

Shooting moving targets had never been my forte, but that didn't mean I wasn't still good at it.

I aimed at the front right tire, then had to pull away as another batch of bullets were shot my way. As soon as there was a lag I took the chance and shot at the tire, watching in satisfaction as the car careened to the side and took a nose dive into a thick patch of shrubs. The people occupying the car would no doubt be on our tail in a moment, so I took off after Bucky who had succeeded in taking the second car out and had reached the trees already.

Despite the situation, or because of it, I was touched when I saw he had waited for me even with danger so close. He was at just as much risk as I was for being turned back into something he didn't want to be, and the gesture really meant a lot.

I made it to him just as the men swarmed out of the rover and we took cover in the trees, hearing bullet past us and embed themselves in trunks. We continued weaving between trees, pushing our speed dangerously amongst the hidden roots and fallen limbs. It was when I had leapt over a root that I heard the shout.

"Tranq the girl! Do NOT harm the girl!" And it dawned on me as I shot a look at Bucky. They weren't after him. It seemed they were no longer interested in a rogue brainwashed assassin who had shaken off so many decades of conditioning. They wanted me and my abilities for their experiments.

As I watched him a bullet finally hit its mark and tore through Bucky's flesh arm. He grit his teeth and brought his metal arm up to slow the blood, and though I was concerned over his well-being something else sent a pang through me. They had been ordered to tranq me, but they had shot him. They were prepared and willing to kill Bucky. He was the one in danger, not me.

An awful plan began to formulate in my mind, but it was a plan to keep Bucky safe. I couldn't let him die, not after he'd only just begun to remember who he is. I felt our cell phones in my back pockets, both somehow miraculously not having fallen out after all of this.

"Bucky," I called over to him while I ducked a low-hanging branch. "I lied to you. I didn't get a stranger to make my fake I.D. I called Natasha to do it. Natasha's known all along that we've been in North Carolina." He wasn't nearly as angry as I thought he'd be, but there was still exasperation on his face.

"May, now really isn't the time for this." But I ignored him.

"Natasha's number is still in my cell phone. You need to get her help to find me." I was able to watch the understanding dawn on his face, just as quickly as anger took it over.

"They're not going to get us. May, we're almost back to civilization. We can get a bus to the next town over and then disappear. Just like we planned." But we weren't close to civilization yet. Not close enough, and we had planned on both of us being targeted by Hydra, or whoever might have taken interest in us. We hadn't planned on one of us not being a target.

"Bucky, they're going to kill you. They only want me." The anger stayed on his face, but I continued to press my point. "If they kill you they get me, then no one will know what happened and how to get me back. But if they capture me and you get away, then _you_ can save me!" I dodged a tree quickly, and just in time as another dart whizzed past me.

"They won't kill me," he argued. I tightened my lips and voiced my thoughts on the matter.

"You're replaceable, Bucky. They can take anyone from anywhere and brainwash them like they did to you. You've become expendable." He clutched the wound in his arm and blood flowed past his metal fingers. "You need to contact Natasha so you can find me together. I'll be waiting for you, Bucky."

Worry grew on his face and I realized it was entirely possible that I'd never see him again. So when he opened his mouth to continue protesting I pulled him to a stop behind some trees for cover. Pulling him down to my height I looked into his panicked eyes and pressed my mouth to his like I should've done ages ago.

He froze for less than a moment before returning the kiss. It was over too fast, but it gave me the strength I needed. I shared a quick look with him when we separated; trying to convey everything I was feeling in that moment, then shoved my backpack and cell phone at him.

"If they get you no one will save either of us. So run."

Before he could say anything I ran back at the men who were closer than ever. Their attention immediately centered solely on me. But I'll be darned if I go without a fight. I didn't watch Bucky leave but instead fought like I never had before.

Eventually I was hit by a tranq dart, and though I fought it as long as I could it didn't take long before someone made it past my defenses.

As I collapsed I couldn't help but remember the last time I had been knocked out; it was by a redhead before the best adventures of my long life.

…

Bucky's POV

Life seemed empty. It was just completely, inexplicably empty. Worse than that was the pain seeming to originate from my chest. The sound of her being captured still sounded in my ears and I dug my nails into my flesh hand to keep the tears at bay.

The cell phone shook in my other hand as I held it up to my ear.

I'd always thought my arm was designed to be still, never shaking despite what I was feeling. Apparently heartbreak hadn't been taken into account by the designers.

"It's been a while," answered the voice, thinking I was May.

"They got her," I said, skipping all introductions and pleasantries.

"Who is this?" Her voice was guarded now, but we didn't have time for this. We needed to find May.

"She gave me her cell phone and told me to get your help." By now I could feel the suspicion coming from her through the phone.

"Help for what?"

"They got her," I repeated hopelessly. "Hydra has May." There was silence.

"How do I know I can trust you? This could all be a trick." Any other day I would've admired her skepticism. Now, though, every moment wasted was more time Hydra had to disappear.

"I guess you can't. But right now I need to look for May." I stopped, remembering the feeling of her lips against mine. Of her pain and love filled eyes after. "I could use your help, but I'll look for her either way." More silence, though I heard muffled sounds that sounded suspiciously like gunshots.

"Where are you?" Her breathing was slightly heavier than before, so I didn't doubt that those sounds were in fact gunshots.

I gave her the address of the corner store I was currently in front of, a few towns over from Raleigh.

"I'll be there by tonight. Stay there." Where else would I go? I went into the alley next to the store and sat down on an overturned wooden crate that had probably once held vegetables.

I'd never felt more alone, and my heart was aching horribly. I missed May.


	25. Back Where We Started

**Guest:** **I completely understand what you mean about the romance, and I'm glad to hear that you think it's going at a good pace. Thank you for all the kind words.**

 **Lara Barnes:** **I figured I might get some reactions about that. Heheh. What can I say? I just can't cut you guys any slack.**

I mentioned earlier that I'd be reformatting my stories some time or other, and that time is now. So if you ever notice that the earlier chapters look different than the later chapters that's why. Also, I'm travelling for the next week or so and get back the day school starts back up, so updates will be even more sporadic from now on. Don't say I didn't warn you. Another big thanks to AstralEnCaos for going through this for any errors.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my plot and any OCs.**

Back Where We Started

(But Not For Long)

Chapter 25

Bucky's POV

The definition of alone simply meant being without any other person nearby. Yet there are common instances when people feel alone while surrounded by friends and family. They feel as if they're without any other person nearby, yet they're in a crowd. There's not a single word for this, though it's often attached to the word "depression". That's not always correct. Sometimes you're alone in a crowd because no one else is like you. You've experienced such things you can't even imagine being a part of this group of naïve bystanders.

Knowing this, you can appreciate it better when I say that I've never felt more alone in my life.

…

Natasha and I were currently holed up in a motel room facing the laptop May had remembered to stuff into her backpack before we left the apartment building.

"You say that at first it wasn't Hydra, but you don't know who it was?" I nodded.

"May mentioned a few times that she was worried that different groups would come after her. She said that different groups would come sometimes to see the work Hydra was doing with her."

"Any names?" This time I shook my head. Everything had been kept too much of a secret from her. She hadn't ever known the people Hydra showed her off to or the groups they were a part of, and if she ever had known she had forgotten while locked away. I didn't say this, though, because talking about her hurt too much still.

It had been a week since Natasha met me in the alley after May was taken. A week of dead ends and false leads. It was frustrating, and I felt the desperation inside me growing each day that passed. Knowing what I did of how they treated her in the past, seeing the scars of their experiments, it made me fear what she was going through as we spoke. It was torture in itself.

We had tried everything; surveillance cameras in the area, ATM cameras all throughout the city. She had given me her phone, so there wasn't even the chance of tracing the untraceable phone she'd been carrying around for the past year.

Natasha's fingers tapped away at the keyboard as they had been for the past few hours since we last stopped for a brief lunch and I felt hopelessness grip me. Hydra knew how to stay hidden; the decades they spent hidden inside SHIELD could attest to that. Knowing that, how could two people ever hope to find them if they wanted to stay hidden? The task seemed daunting and impossible.

Quelling the urge to punch something – to _hurt_ or _break_ something – I stormed out of the room. A moment later Natasha's voice called after me, but I ignored her and continued out of the building. We were in a fairly secluded part of town and the only other occupants in the stingy motel we were currently in were either stoned or recovering from a hangover. Thus, no one would notice if I punched a tree into a pulp which is what I was currently doing.

Natasha waited back a bit and watched as I let out all of my anger on the innocent tree who just happened to come into my path first, only approaching when I finished and set my forehead against it instead. I heard her approach, and only just a few months ago I would've lashed out at her for simply being behind me. May would've noticed this progress, but I simply shoved it aside because she wasn't here to notice it for me.

"Losing your temper won't help us find May." My heart broke once again at the sound of her name, because at this rate I could very well never see her again. I closed my eyes in despair and saw hers, how she looked at me before giving herself up so I could get away. My lips tingled and for the life of me I wanted to kiss her again. But I couldn't because she was gone.

"You don't understand," I said quietly, eyes still closed and thinking of May. "I love her." And it was true. For everything inside of me, everything May was helping me to be, I loved her. Knowing that, and knowing I had never gotten the chance to tell her, I'd take the pain of losing an arm any day over what I was feeling inside right now.

A hand grabbed my shoulder – my flesh one – and I forced myself back to earth. I turned my head slightly to look at Natasha and a sympathetic yet understanding look was on her face.

"That's all the more reason to keep it together. Hydra's falling apart and has only had a year to rebuild itself from the helicarrier fiasco. If there was ever a time we could find her it's now."

I let myself take the hope she was dangling in front of me and nodded, standing tall as I had been trained to do by our enemies and fueled by my need to get May back. Pity party done, the two of us went back to the room.

There weren't many other things to check for clues on her whereabouts since we didn't have any information on Hydra. But there was something we hadn't checked, and for a very good reason.

"How good of a hacker are you?" I asked the redhead beside me. She shot me a skeptical look.

"How do you mean?" I eyed a stoned man as we passed him and entered our own room, turning the poor excuse of a lock behind us.

"I mean, on a scale of one and hacking the government, how good of a hacker are you?"

…

May's POV

I was curled up in the corner of the room they had stuck me in a few hours ago. Though maybe it was only a couple minutes ago. Time blurs here to the point I don't know where days have passed or only hours. I've forgotten what time means. It's become something of the past. _Just like before._

The room I was currently in was small, smaller than the one before, but it wasn't as secure. Whereas the one before was pitch black without any hint of light, and cold – metal – this one had a little line of light at the bottom of the door which I could just barely not hear sounds from. From it footsteps were only tangible if I pressed my ear against it, and voices were fuzzy no matter how hard I listened. Just the same, the bit of light and the indistinct voices made a world of difference. The walls were still metal, but not as sleek as the one before and thus not as cold. I didn't have a bed here, only a mattress with a thin threadbare blanket. I didn't have much better in the last one anyway.

Despite these small differences, there was one persistent, aching truth. I had once again been locked in My Room.

The bolt slid back abruptly with a _clang_ and the door swung open with a veil of blinding light. I straightened from my curled position despite my want to curl up even further and sink into the thin mattress and squinted my eyes against the glare.

"What do you want?" I snapped, but just as with before they still didn't answer. Two men grabbed my arms – though I was perfectly capable of walking on my own – and led me down an unfamiliar hall. Tingles ran down my spine because thus far they hadn't harmed me in any way, or forced me to exert myself at all, and I was getting the feeling the peace was about to end.

They wound through different halls until I was completely lost as to where we were, yet sooner than I thought we would they stopped in front of a door and shoved me through it. I stumbled but caught myself before falling to the ground and lifted myself tall. Only to want to shrink again.

It wasn't anyone I recognized, but over my years with Hydra I'd gotten used to being introduced to various figures of high authority. This man held himself like they did. He must be the new leader of Hydra.

"Hello May," he said in a cool, strongly accented voice, as if we were simply strangers getting acquainted. "Or rather, Asset. Hydra's second asset if I'm correct." My blood chilled at the familiar name – _Not a name, a title_ – and I found myself regretting my choice of giving up so easily. Maybe Bucky and I could've lost our pursuers, or made it away without Bucky being killed. Maybe maybe maybe. I'd made my choice. It was time to live with it.

"But that's not very fair," he said in an almost mocking tone. "I know who you are, and you don't know who I am." I already knew who he was. He was the new leader of Hydra, the person who would now be taking my life in his hands and giving the okay for all of the horrifying things I have no doubt he wants to inflict on me. Names don't matter when in my situation, names are only a sign of power. He was simply making it clear who was boss.

"My name is Vasily Karpov, but to you it's Mr. Karpov." I didn't know the name, but the arrogance in it was familiar. I spit in his face, because this was no doubt the last act of defiance I'd be able to do. It was difficult since my mouth was dry with nerves and I couldn't quite remember the last time I'd had a drink.

His face twisted in disgust just the same and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. I glared right back at him, and abruptly his hand snapped over to backhand me. My head whipped to the side, but the two men were still holding both of my arms, causing my neck to jerk awkwardly. I grit my teeth and tasted blood, feeling my cheek sting and smart, no doubt already turning red, and slowly turned back to the vile man.

" _Mr. Karpov,_ " I sneered. "I hope you know that I won't be here long. And when I'm saved I will enjoy seeing you _ripped to pieces._ " His eyes widened a fraction, no doubt at the venom dripping from my voice, before he sneered right back at me.

"And I hope you know, _asset,_ that the experiments for you have been piling up in your absence. If anyone's going to be ripped to pieces," his voice lowered, getting softer until he was whispering menacingly right in front of my face. "It's you." I resisted the animalistic urge to lift my head and bite his nose off, but he must have read the intent in my eyes because he lifted himself back up again.

"Take her to the experiment chamber. She has a date with our scientists."

…

I spent more time strapped to that table than I did in My Room, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I despised being alone. A curse because I was just as alone on that table as I would have been in that room, except in this case I was surrounded by uncaring people with knives and needles. Ominous machines loomed behind them, and I found myself caught in a vicious cycle. Needles injecting things into me, copious amounts of blood taken for results. Knives cutting, hordes of vials of tissue taken for results. The machines weren't used on me for a long time, though. In the days – weeks? – I was there, it wasn't the machine. Until, after the cycle, there came a disruption. They had found something, something it seemed they'd been looking for a long time. Then I was hooked up to machines which seared at my mind, making me scream until I swore my throat would bleed. Hooked up to those machines, I almost missed by cycle. The knives were much preferred to this torture.

…

Bucky's POV

The plan to find May was easy only in the sense of the word. It would only really be simple if everything worked out, which was always completely unlikely. That's why I gave Natasha her space while she typed away frantically at the laptop I'm now so glad May decided to buy.

"I'm in," she said it quietly, but I could hear the well-contained excitement hidden there. I could feel it, too, reflected in myself. Now was the part where either we were able to find May or we weren't. It all rode on the hope she had grabbed my phone before leaving the apartment. Knowing how her mind worked I was nearly entirely positive that she had. There was always the small chance she hadn't, which is the problem, and that's what we were about to find out.

"Give me her phone." I complied, having it in her outstretched hand before she had even finished talking, then watched as she tinkered around with it for a moment.

It was a commonly known fact by now that the government tracks us and everything we do. We just needed to utilize that violation of privacy for a moment.

"If this works," Natasha said, pausing her tinkering. "We'll only have access for a few moments before they find out we're in their system. You need to be prepared for disappointment, because it's likely that's all we'll find." She finally looked up at me from the little phone. "Just don't get your hopes too high." I gave a gruff nod, but that did nothing to bring my hopes any lower. Because if this didn't work, I would be crushed. I wouldn't know what to do next.

Just the same, at my nod the woman turned back to the phone and searched the contacts, stopping at the number labeled as mine and called it. As soon as it began ringing the letters filling the laptop screen began changing rapidly and Natasha turned back to it, no doubt decrypting the gibberish. I had been trained to hack moderately, but never at this scale. My respect for the Black Widow had just skyrocketed.

The difficult part of this plan was that we had bought untraceable phones, which were named that way appropriately. We had owned them for over a year now, though, and I hoped that it was enough to have expired their usefulness in that department. Meaning, if we had good enough of a way to track it, maybe we could find May. Or at least get a pointer in where she had been taken.

I watched as she quickly scanned the words on the screen, typing herself to help quicken the search. Then, just as she said, moments later it became obvious she wasn't the only one on that page as it flickered momentarily before more writing began to appear, different than the code that was already there.

"They've caught on to us!" Natasha said, beginning to type like mad as even more print began appearing on the page. "They're trying to figure out who we are." And we really couldn't have that happening

"Have you found her yet?" Panic began creeping in again, because darn it all I was helpless once again.

"It pinged off a tower, but I haven't found where it went yet. The tower was in….I got it. I found her." And with that she cleared the computer and shut it down before we could be traced ourselves. There was a moment of stunned silence, then she penned down some coordinates and we began stuffing everything in the bags again.

"Where is she?" We loaded everything into the trunk of her car and she entered the coordinates in her phone, then shot me a look as her car started up.

"Ever been to Kentucky?"

…

I will say now that I have never attempted to hack anything, ever. So bear with me. Just pretend I know what I'm doing simply because it's told from Bucky's point of view. That makes up for everything ;) And yes, it was a short chapter…but that's okay. I'd say the next chapter will make up for it in length but I really don't know. Guess we'll see.


	26. The Blind Can See

**DarkestNova:** **I'm going to go ahead and assume you've made it this far already. I read your comment and it completely made me do a double take. Thanks for noticing the anniversary for me!**

 **eunoiapaint:** **You're welcome.**

 **Guest (who signed Marion on a review):** **Don't die! I'm still writing. Sorry for the long wait, but thank you so much for the kind words. And you're English is great.**

 **Verona1700:** **Aww...Thank you! Unfortunately, I can't answer your questions without spoiling things. But I can assure you that some of the answers are in this chapter.**

Hello again. Did you miss me? I bring you a nice gift for the Holidays. Sorry it took so long, but I'm finished with the semester. Just got my first C+, which I'm still very upset about. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten past my writers block. I didn't answer the "Guest" reviews since I thought that would get a little confusing, but thank you guys so much for being so nice and encouraging. It really means a lot. Also, big shout out to my betas **Astral Kai** and **Salentria** for going through this chapter. I seriously don't know what I'd do without you guys.

 **Dislaimer: Only the plot and any OC's belong to me. Just as Stan Lee.**

[o]

Chapter 26

The Blind Can See

(And Pop Goes The Weasel)

"Sir," came a voice behind Karpov. "We're pushing her too hard. All her past paperwork has shown what could happen if we keep this up. It's already beginning to have an effect on her." Karpov narrowed his eyes.

"You think I don't know that? Yet every moment we waste here is another moment we could be found. We need to get everything out of her as quickly as possible." If they could just figure out what made her tick they could rebuild Hydra, bring it back from the brink once again. This creature they held in their basement could be the new foundation of Hydra. It would happen, no matter the cost; because when one head is cut off, two heads take its place. She was all they needed to do that.

"Sir, with all due respect, at the rate we're going she won't make it that long. We can't experiment if there's nothing to experiment on."

"Then work harder. You're missing something important; and so help me, if she dies before you've found it, you and your family will follow close behind."

The scientist gulped nearly audibly and bent his head in submission, giving a small nod to show he understood.

"Now get back to work."

The scientist retreated as quickly as he came, the lives of his family now resting on his shoulders more than ever. Karpov turned back to the screen monitoring the experiment room. The girl in question was currently slumped over in clear exhaustion, an odd contraption hooked on to her head. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and this desperate time was slowly turning into a more hopeful one. They had found something in her to utilize, and it could be the key to the return of Hydra. She just had to live long enough to get there.

…

Bucky's POV

I'd never been so restless in my life. Or at least what I remembered of it. I wanted to march right over to the Hydra base and get May – _my_ May – but Romanoff reminded me that this was supposed to be a rescue mission, not a suicide mission. We only had the weapons on our persons and no idea what we were marching into. And as much as I didn't want her to be, I knew she was right. Still, I wanted May back.

We were currently driving to Kentucky, planning to stop somewhere a few hours away from where the coordinates led us. From there we would get more weapons and any info going around. Scope the area out and the likes.

We were getting closer, but we were still too far for my taste.

…

May's POV

I could feel it. The darkness encroaching on my mind. Only when I was in My Room though. The rest of the time I only felt pain. I think I preferred the pain, but the only time I'm actually clear-minded enough to decide on my preference is when I'm in pain, and it doesn't seem so preferable at the time.

The machines were becoming more familiar. I knew that when they attached them to me I would feel excruciating pain and pass out. Sometimes I would wake up again in My Room. Other times I'd still be in the lab.

Their awful lab where everything hurts and everyone is blank and emotionless and I always feel pain and sometimes I get so scared I forget I'm scared and…what was I thinking about?

Oh that's right. The darkness. Or was it the lab? Whichever. I'll think about the darkness now. Not actual darkness, though there's a lot of that in My Room. The darkness eating my mind. Or drowning it? Making me forget things, or see things that are impossible. Like Bucky. I'll see Bucky standing behind the evil men dressed in white who cut me open and my blood is so bright on their white coats. He'll stand behind them and tell me it's okay because he's going to save me.

But I know he's not real because Bucky's safe and he doesn't know where I am and I don't want him to save me because they'll kill him but I want him to save me and I _need_ him to save me…

…and then there are the clear moments when the darkness backs off for a while even when I'm not in pain. It's in those moments that I think I do in fact remember what it feels like to be insane.

Then I realize that I'm not okay.

…

Bucky's POV

I sat on a bench outside a little farmer's market in the rural Kansas town. It was an overcast morning but the sun that occasionally peeped through the early clouds promised a warm day. I sat inconspicuously – just another person enjoying the peaceful morning. But in reality I was watching the people going in and out of the market, looking for one face in particular.

Natasha and I had been staying in a motel here for the past few days trying to find a lead on where the Hydra base was located. She'd finally found that lead in a suspicious man obviously going through his mid-life crisis, if his red sports car was anything to go by. Said man lived in a nearby neighborhood and was currently in the market, just waiting to be tailed to see if our suspicions about him were correct.

As I waited in the steadily warming air a woman walked to the entrance with a little girl in tow. Upon closer inspection, I found that the girl was holding a guide stick with small pink sunglasses covering her eyes. She was blind.

Once they reached the door the woman stopped and searched for something in her purse.

"I'll be right back. Stay here," she said, leading the girl to where she could hold the wall, then rushed back to her car.

As soon as the woman was gone the girl began exploring, tapping obstacles with the stick and carefully navigating around them.

In her exploration she gradually came closer to me, until my foot was in danger of being hit by her rotating guide stick.

"Excuse me," I said, slightly concerned that I'd surprise her. The small sunglasses seemed to look at me as her head came up slightly.

"Sorry." I looked to see if the woman was on her way back, but there was no sign of her. She continued on her way, tapping away at the bench I was sitting on.

"My name is Mia," she said as she continued on to explore the nearby objects. "I'm blind." Well what am I supposed to say to that?

"But I can still see stuff." My eyebrow lifted on its own and her head turned back to me. "That's okay, people don't usually believe me. And I'm not really supposed to tell anyone. I just told you because you have a really cool arm." My heart skipped a beat in surprise and I couldn't stop myself from immediately evaluating her for threats. Nothing obvious, and the Soviets' "Red Room" had been disbanded long ago, so the chances of her being dangerous was low. But still possible.

"Mia!" A voice called as the woman rushed over quickly from across the small road. "I told you not to move!" Mia protested as she was dragged away.

"Mom, we were having a conversation. You're interrupting! I want to say bye!" The mother heaved a sigh that spoke wonders, but she stopped.

"Thank you," Mia said with a voice I could only describe as patronizing, then walked back to me and held out her hand.

"Now for a proper introduction. My name is Mia Schanzenbach, and yours?" My eyebrow lifted once again in amusement and took the odd little not-blind girl's hand. "Bucky."

"It's nice to meet you, Bucky." Then she turned around and walked into the store, tapping her little stick the whole way.

"Sorry if she bothered you," the mother apologized quickly before following. I just shook my head, digesting what had just occurred.

I concluded that Mia was born special, like May was. Or she was experimented on, but the first option was much more pleasant.

A middle-aged man who matched the pictures Natasha and I had been studying walked out of the store with an arm full of groceries.

I calmly pulled out my new untraceable phone and dialed Natasha's number before going to the parked car, keeping the man in my side vision.

"They didn't have whole milk," I spoke, letting her know that I had eyes on the target. Now was simply the job of discreetly following him to, hopefully, the Hydra base. We'd deal with the rest of the plan when we got that far.

The ever-present worry consumed my mind at what we might find waiting for us; or worse, what we _wouldn't_ find. But like the trained soldier and assassin that I am, I pushed those thoughts and feelings to a place they couldn't reach me and instead focused on following the car I currently had my eye on.

I tailed the car like I had been trained to, staying far enough to keep from seeming suspicious but close enough not to lose him.

It wasn't long before we got out of the small town and into farmland where the cars were more obvious. To compensate for this I put even more space between the two cars to the point his normal, unenhanced eyesight would view me as only a small speck far behind him; nothing to worry about.

We drove for another solid hour surrounded by nothing but farm crops. I was just beginning to worry Natasha and I had hit another dead end when he finally tapped on his brakes and took a right turn onto another seemingly fruitless road, if it weren't for all the "Do Not Trespass" signs.

I continued driving and watched as the car stopped at a security checkpoint further down the road, handing the man inside a large card – no doubt identification – before continuing on his way. I then called Natasha on my way to the nearest town and taking a different route back to the motel so as not to draw attention to myself by going past the checkpoint again.

"I think we've found it."

…

May's POV

I think the machines aren't so bad anymore. Yeah. They're like friends. I know what to expect from them because I know them so well. And they know me very well too. Better than the scientists do. I think. Then again, the machines probably haven't read my file, so maybe the scientists know me better. But I don't know them as well as I know the machines. So I'll just stick with the machines being my friends.

"There aren't any significant results." Is that me screaming? Oh that's right. The machines can't be my friends. They hurt me. I'm pretty sure friends aren't supposed to hurt each other.

"Then turn it up higher. We need new results, or…"

"Yeah…" I think my screaming just got louder. Maybe I'm supposed to be feeling pain? Is there a point where everything just hurts so bad it becomes normal? That must be why I'm not feeling pain. So then maybe the machines are my friends. I consider asking them, but remember that I'm already busy screaming. I consider stopping my screaming, too, but put that thought off to the side. I'm not entirely sure if I do control my body anymore.

"Look, there it is again."

"What?"

"Just watch…There! That pulse from the other day!"

"Her file says this started up after you injected her with this?" Did he just hold up a needle? I don't like needles. Or is it knives I don't like? Maybe I don't like either. But I think these machines are fine. Maybe. I can't really remember. Don't they hurt me? Friends don't hurt each other…

That's a big needle.

"Injecting her with more would put toxic levels in her body. Maybe we should ask Mr. Karpov."

"Do you want to ask Mr. Karpov? Hasn't he already threatened you and your family? All our families? Besides, she already has toxic levels of a lot of things in her system."

"Would you shut her up already?!" I think they just put something in my mouth. But whoa, it's really quiet now. I guess I really was screaming. But now my jaw aches. If I could control my body I'd probably stop biting down so hard. Can't be good for my teeth. Ooh, I hope I'm not biting my tongue. I'd get so much blood on my clothes. I don't like blood. It's so purple and blue and…dang they just put that needle in my arm, which was already bruised from the many other times they'd stabbed me in the past few…however long I've been here.

"Nothing new."

"So turn it up higher."

And suddenly I remembered what pain is, and I realized that the machines aren't my friends, and I bit down on the object in my mouth so hard it began to give away.

What sounded like alarms began blaring, red lights turning the previously white room eerie, and there was shouting as scientists evacuated the room, and somehow I seemed able to feel their panic as they scurried out of the room, leaving me to drown in my pain, and _oh my head_.

I tried crying out, yelling, pleading to be let go, but no one came back. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to find someone to help me, to let me go, and please just start cutting me up again because I can't handle this pain in my mind anymore.

Darkness began creeping into my vision and my head had to be close to exploding by now. I think I was dying. And look, here's an angel to come get me. An angel that looked suspiciously like Bucky?

I tried squinting and blinking my eyes, trying to get a better look at the angel coming through the door for me, and for some reason immense worry and panic filled me as the Bucky-Angel came in the room and I just really wanted to be able to see the Bucky-Angel's face before I died, but just as I felt I might be able to see, something popped inside my head.

My taut muscles relaxed for the first time in days and all my thoughts scattered. What was I thinking about again? Oh yeah, the darkness.

[o]

Bittersweet holiday gift. May's mentality is really becoming worrisome. I hope to have the next chapter out within the week, and even if it's not I promise it won't take as long as it took to get this chapter out. Just a little I have a little plot twist approaching in the next few chapters that I'm positive none of you saw coming. I'm excited to surprise you all. And in case you guys aren't aware, I finally posted the first chapter of my side-fic **Black Ice** which is about what Steve's been up to all this time. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.


	27. It Ends In Flames

**Bella (Guest)** **: I'm sorry for taking so long to update but thanks for hanging in there! Hope everything's going alright with school, and I'm really glad you're liking my stories :)**

 **ccmurphy** **: I'm not sure if you've made it this far yet, but North Carolina rocks!**

 **MaxSinger** **: Sorry for taking so long to update :/ But, I'm really excited to get the ending to you guys, too.**

 **Secret-Lullaby2** **: Don't worry, I'm not going to stop. Since it's almost Summer I'm hoping to get the next chapter out sooner than I've been updating, so don't die!**

 **Guest:** **Hello! I sorted through your review the best I could, but yes I think you should've been sleeping XD (Your name is Gen?) I'm going to keep going with BtI, and I'm really glad you're liking it :) Did you ask why May is in so much pain? Well, I hope that gets cleared up a bit more in this next chapter, so you'll just have to find out for yourself…**

Thank you all so much for the reviews. I almost waited longer before posting this next chapter, but I decided not to keep you all waiting since you've asked so nicely. Really, you guys truly make my day.

Just warning you that I am getting a pretty time-consuming job over the Summer, but this semester was really stressful, so I'm really looking forward to just writing as often as I can. That means I shouldn't take as long to update this time. Thank you all again for your support and patience.

Big shout out to my beta Salentria. You're absolutely amazing.

 **Disclaimer: For some reason, I still don't own anything you recognize except any OCs and my plot.**

[o]

Chapter 27

It Ends In Flames

(And A Bit Of Despair)

The man began his day like he did every other: cup of coffee to wake up, eggs and bacon for breakfast, kissed his wife and kids goodbye, and left to go to what they thought was a harmless government job. But it wasn't a government job, and it wasn't harmless.

He went to his locker and retrieved his white lab coat and buttoned it up, pulling his I.D. so it was over the white fabric. He pretended he didn't see the faded brown color of washed out blood, and grabbed his briefcase, carrying it in a way that disguised its unusual heaviness.

He then went down the halls and familiar staircases until he reached his room, where he waited patiently for his test subject to be brought in from her cell, while the others around him booted up the computers.

When the girl was dragged in he and the others methodically sedated her and attached her to the machine she's been hooked to for the past few days, ever since the experiments showed their first slight results.

It wasn't for another few hours that the man's routine changed, when he casually went on break at the same time he always does, once again carrying his briefcase by his side.

However, instead of going to the scientists' meal room he went down unfamiliar stairs and identical halls, to a vacant room. It was there he left his heavier-than-usual briefcase, carrying a device set to explode in the next few hours.

He then returned from lunch and went back to his room, where his test subject continued to loll on the machine, opening her hopeless eyes occasionally to glance around and try to make sense of her surroundings. He knew this behavior would continue for another hour or so when the sedatives wore off and no one bothered to administer more, and her screaming would begin.

The man really hated his routine, and was looking forward to ending it.

…

 _Finally,_ is all I could think while walking down the familiar dirt road surrounded on either side by innocent corn plants. Further ahead was a small guard's station, no doubt equipped with a way to warn anyone further down if an intruder came too close. Which was exactly why Natasha was waiting behind with the stolen red sports car, stopped at the side of the road with the hood up under the guise that it had broken down and we needed help. Help that would supposedly come from that little guard's station.

As soon as I got close enough for the guard inside to see me clearly, I raised my hand at him, trying my hardest to look like a sheepish civilian and not an experienced ex-assassin loaded down with many bought and self-made weapons. All of May's past lessons ran through my head and I directed the muscles in my face to come up in a friendly smile. It hurt.

"Hey," I called out. He immediately looked even further on guard, but did stick his head out of the little window. "My car broke down and I don't have any of my tools with me. Think you can help?" He still looked cautious, but less so.

"No. I don't have any tools. Good luck." He went to retreat inside while moving to close the window, but I called out again, nearly to the window now.

"Do you at least have a phone I can use? Mine isn't getting service." He stuck his face back out with an expression clearly saying what his response was going to be, but got a face full of fist instead. And he was out. I lifted a hand to the com in my ear, covered by my much too long hair.

"It's clear," I told Natasha, before going to the station's door and hog-tying the unhelpful little man and stuffing a gag in his mouth just as the car came to a stop outside. I quickly finished by securing him to a sturdy looking heating vent on the floor so he couldn't sound any alarms when he woke, shut the window, and locked the booth door behind me.

"You ready?" Natasha asked as I shut the door to the passenger seat. I gave a gruff nod, because I was _so_ ready to punch anyone affiliated with Hydra. Not only for revenge, because revenge was sweet, but because they took May. They took May and they've no doubt continued experimenting on her. My jaw clenched in worry as I thought of the state she could be in when we found her. She could be broken, bloody. She could already be…

A little laugh escaped Natasha, disturbing me from my dark thoughts and I slid a look over to her. Her eyes were fixed on the road, looking for anything that could be the Hydra base, and the little smile stayed on her lips. Though it was hardly there at all.

"I asked May that once," she explained. "Back when we were about to leak all her files, I asked her if she was ready for it. She always seemed so quiet and timid, and almost like she was completely alone even when she was surrounded by others." One of her eyebrows lifted at the memory. "She just smirked and asked, 'Are you?'. It really surprised me; before that she'd never really given any clue to who _she_ was, you know?" I knew. I'd discovered that same fact so long ago, when we played Two Truths and a Lie. I never would've guessed before just how much she had been holding back about herself. I nodded to show my understanding.

"It's like she becomes who the situation needs." This time she nodded in agreement, then the smile left her face and her eyes became serious even though she was still looking at the road.

"So, no matter what they did to her in there, we know she's done everything possible to survive. Because that's what this situation needed." Her eyes finally left the road and surprise filled me as I realized what she had just done. One of my eyebrows raised slightly as I realized that she had known exactly what I had been thinking when I entered the car.

"Don't give up on her just yet."

I fixed my eyes on the road and they narrowed as a roof came into view, gradually coming closer until a large warehouse was in full view.

No, I wouldn't give up on her yet. For now, I'll focus on getting to her.

…

"Scan it there," I said, pointing to a little machine ahead of us. We were currently in front of the one-story warehouse which appeared on the outside to be completely deserted. No cars, no people, no nothing. Except for the little machine I was pointing to.

Natasha pulled out the I.D. card of the middle-aged man we had been following for the past few days and who was currently tied up in the closet of his bedroom and held it up to the machine. A high-pitched beep sounded and a little blue light showed its acceptance of the guard. Not to mention the large doors that opened to what seemed to be a garage, if the dozens of parked cars were anything to go by.

She quickly pulled next to a car and we got out, scoping the area out for any threats, but were pleasantly surprised to find there weren't any.

The first step of the plan was complete. Now we needed to get Natasha into the control room so she could guide me to May.

The interior of the warehouse didn't look at all like the unassuming exterior. There were shiny white halls, squeaky linoleum floors, and immediately after entering from the garage there was a locker room, holding all the things we needed for this mission to go as smoothly as possible.

The two of us emerged garbed in our new long white lab coats with I.D. cards hanging from both of our necks. Sure, the pictures on back didn't look anything like either of us but anyone close enough to see the differences would be close enough to punch so we were fine.

Memories ran through my mind of past Hydra buildings and I determined the best route to where the control room might be located. Unfortunately, the white halls and the rooms attached to them weren't as empty as the garage had been, not that I wasn't expecting to encounter people. And though I wasn't surprised that there were people, I was relatively surprised at just how few there were. None of the Hydra bases I had frequented were this empty. Just the same, I kept my face strategically hidden from view by any cameras and people we walked by while Natasha held her head up proudly, perfectly matching the people around us who didn't suspect for one second that we were here to destroy them all. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I opened the door that was conveniently labeled and walked in, not even acknowledging the surprised chubby man cradling a cup of coffee, and he was sprawled on the floor unconscious via one Agent Romanoff before he built up the sense to call for help.

Amazingly, that was it. I was expecting half a dozen people monitoring dozens of screens and playing poker in their downtime. This room in comparison was puny, though still decently large, with the man's station and another, though it appeared that one was vacant for the time being. The strike in D.C. really crippled them.

Natasha had already taken the man's spot and I dragged the man to the side of the room, taking the last of the thin rope I had brought and securing him to the leg of the second table, stuffing a napkin in his mouth to keep him moderately quiet.

"Alright big guy, I've got your route." I looked up at the redhead and narrowed my eyes at how pale she had suddenly become. But I didn't have time to ask. It wouldn't be long before someone noticed that something was up. I nodded, eyes still narrowed, and left the room once the hall was clear.

"Head to your right."

She directed me through winding halls and down a stairwell, telling me when anyone was coming my way so I could slow down my pace and act casual. For the most part it worked, and no one spared me a second glance. Until a pair of men in white lab coats who exited a door to my right and promptly knocked into me. Right away I knew this was the end of the peace we had experienced up until now.

"So sorry," muttered the man as he scurried away with his companion, shooting a quick nearly unnoticeable glance at the metal he no doubt felt under my coat, and another look at my face. Recognition flickered in his eyes as he quickly turned his head back around and led his partner around the nearest corner.

I pursed my lips in annoyance and followed them.

"I've been made," I grumbled into the earpiece, quickening my pace as I turned the corner to see one pulling an emergency trigger. Alarms began blaring and red lights flashed their warnings.

"Sorry, there aren't any cameras in the room they came out of," Natasha explained. I reached the man and slammed my fist into his head, knocking him out. The other let out a _very_ manly scream and raised his arms in surrender.

"Please, I'm unarmed." I knocked him out, too.

"You're not far from the lab now, but you have to hurry. Those scientists alerted security to an intruder and backup is on its way. Now continue down this hall."

I ran, the alarms blaring in my ears. Around me more men in white coats were leaving the different rooms along the hall following some sort of emergency protocol. It was clear I was in the science area, if the persistent white coats were any indication.

"Bucky, you have to hurry." I was about to mention that she'd already told me to hurry, but her voice was grave and I knew she wasn't saying this because of the security. It suddenly occurred to me that she was in the security room and that there was likely a camera in the room May was in.

"What are they doing to her? Is she okay?" There was hesitation on the other line.

"You'll find out soon enough. The door to your right. Some scientists are going to come out in a moment." Right on cue a handful of men walked out of the room, too distracted to notice that I entered the room they had just left.

The sight that greeted me would haunt me for the rest of my life.

There was May attached to a large machine, bandaged and bloody, covered in a flimsy white slip no doubt concealing more injuries. A mouth guard had fallen apart due to the strength being forced on it. There was a high-pitched whining that barely sounded over the blaring alarms. that I recognized as a scream only when it abruptly cut off as she slumped in her restraints.

A jumble of emotions knotted inside my stomach as I bolted towards her, alarms blaring in my ears. Fear, worry, guilt, and more attacked me as I hastily went to the controls and turned off all the switches, the machine audibly powering off. Her body began spasming lightly at the abrupt change, and I ripped the restraints off her, pulling especially viciously at one wrapped around her neck. She finally came loose and fell limply into my arms.

My head snapped around at a crashing sound followed by a muttered curse sounded in my ear, leading me to believe the commotion had come from Natasha's end.

"I'll be back in a moment," she said before the line went dead. Immediately my attention turned back to the unconscious woman lying in my arms.

She looked so broken and fragile – there wasn't a patch of healthy, untouched skin on her. The bruises, emaciation, and the hastily sewn surgical cuts made her look like a worn-out doll that had been broken a few too many times.

I tore my eyes from her and the reality of the situation rushed back to me as I wrapped May in my arms and made my way back to the exit. My earpiece was still dead so I didn't have any eyes, so I just had to hope that I would spot any security before they spotted me. If I was lucky maybe I wouldn't encounter anyone …

…or not.

"You must be the rogue assassin," said the man now standing in front of me, gun in my face. "I am Vasily Karpov, head of Hydra."

Due to said gun, I decided the best thing to do was not to say anything.

"Now I'd love to chat, but I'm on a bit of a tight schedule. It appears that you have something I need." Neither of us moved a muscle, and he was no doubt evaluating the situation just as I was.

My hands were full with a precious cargo, so I was at a bit of a disadvantage, but he wouldn't want to damage said cargo, which put him at a disadvantage as well. So, as much as I hated to do it, I could use May to my advantage as a shield of sorts. I clenched my jaw and prepared to take the first step.

He saw my weight shift slightly and prepared to attack if needed. Except a solid _thud_ came from behind him as his eyes widened, and he fell forward unconscious, replaced by a short man with a rod in his limp hands. He tore his eyes from the man collapsed on the ground to first glance at the limp girl in my arms, before finally meeting my gaze.

The rod clattered to the ground, just barely heard over the deafening alarms, and he raised his hands quickly in a sign of peace. I expected him to begin begging for his life, claiming not to be a part of Hydra, so I was surprised when he spoke.

"You're here to save her?" He questioned with a calm, albeit loud, voice.

I clenched my jaw, wondering if this was somehow some twisted trap to get me to lower my guard, but he once again shot a concerned glance at May, so I reasoned that Karpov had already trapped me with both hands occupied and a gun in my face. He wouldn't have needed me to lower my guard, he could've just shot me.

I gave a curt nod, and he tentatively brought his arms back down.

"I came to save her as well, but I suppose this just makes my job easier." A crease formed between my eyes.

"You're not with Hydra?" Because if he was with Hydra and was caught betraying them, his penalty would be…

"I was with Hydra, but I couldn't…" He faltered and glanced at May once again. "What we were doing was wrong. Very wrong. And I want to make sure Hydra doesn't do it again." My shoulders finally relaxed at his explanation and the earnest look on his face. I regarded the man in front of me with new respect. Here was a man giving up all that he knew and risking his life, all for a girl that he didn't even know.

Of course, May is wonderful and amazing, so there's that. But still.

His gaze hardened and he clenched his jaw, no longer distracted by May or the man on the ground.

"We did horrible things to her; things no one should ever have to experience. It's a wonder she's still alive, but if she doesn't get immediate help I don't know how much longer she'll stay that way." He took a tiny step forward, looking for all the world like he wanted to grab her hand and tell her everything would be okay, but he backed off. Which is good, because whether he had turned his back on Hydra or not, I wasn't going to be letting anyone touch May for a while.

"If you want to help her you need to get her file. It has everything that's been done to her since she was captured, and you can use that information to do everything you can to help." He then stepped away, over Karpov, and began fiddling with one of the computers lining the wall. I reluctantly followed him, watching as he began copying information onto a hard drive, which he then disconnected and stuffed into one of my shirt pockets, before hurrying back to the door.

"There's not much time. Her file is incomplete: it doesn't have the information on the experiments done today, but everything it's missing is on that hard drive. You need to get her file and get out of here as fast as you can. I've ensured that this place will be gone within the next ten minutes. Go down this hall to the stairs, up to the next floor, and the door on your left is the files room. Now go, hurry!"

I left the room, turning one look back at the scientist and the man on the floor. He followed my gaze before turning back to me.

"I'll take care of him. And…apologize to her for me, won't you?"

And then I was running as fast as I could without jostling the girl in my arms. The com was still down, so I followed the scientists' directions. Just as I reached the staircase he had mentioned there was a sharp _bang_ from where I'd just left. I felt grim satisfaction knowing Karpov was dead, only feeling a bit of disappointment that I hadn't been the one to finish him off myself. As I ran the alarms abruptly stopped, leaving a loud ringing behind in my ears. The red lights continued to flash, giving everything an eerie red tint.

The files room was filled with filing cabinets and I raced between them, aware of the time trickling away. We hadn't run into anyone along the way, including the security Natasha had warned be about, and I wasn't sure whether to be thankful or wary.

May's was the first manila folders in the cabinet labeled "Experiments". It was simply labeled Asset 2, and I assumed I was Asset 1 though they didn't have any files on me here. The amount of information they had on her was staggering. All of it was labeled "Data", and I had no doubt that this was all the information that they had gathered from their experimentations on her. Anger flared in me and I gripped her limp body closer to myself. This whole room was filled with destroyed lives.

I grabbed the folder with only her information and the nature of the experiments then went to the entrance of the room. The unassuming rows of filing cabinets now seemed ominous and evil; they represented so much pain and destruction that had been inflicted on innocent people.

I grabbed one of the smaller bombs that I had made from inside one of my pockets. This place may already be set to blow, but I wasn't taking any chances that any of this information would get back into the wrong hands.

The release switched quickly and easily, and I threw it in lightly before bolting off as quickly as I could.

An explosion sounded behind me, the dim red lighting turning orange for a moment before warm air hit my back from the explosion.

Now to get back to Natasha and get out of here. Just then the com switched back on.

"Are you okay? What was that?"

"Natasha, we need to get out of here!" I told her instead, racing up more stairs to get back to the security room she was in. "No time to explain, the place is about to blow." Thankfully, she immediately went into serious mode. Not that I'd expect anything else from the experienced Agent.

"I know. We just received warning over the radio that a bomb was planted inside the building." That explains the lack of security. "How long do we have?" Came her no-nonsense voice over the com.

"Five minutes tops."

"I'll get the car. Meet me there." The line once again went dead, but I didn't worry this time.

I looked down at May's pasty face, the dark leather of my suit contrasting starkly against her too-pale skin, occasionally turned even more sickly by the red lighting. She didn't even look like she was alive with how she was lolling about as I ran, but my enhanced sight was able to pick up a weak pulse in her neck.

"Come on, just hang on a little longer."

We reached the garage in record time, and the sports car waiting for us was the last one in the previously full garage, natural light shining in through the open garage doors. I squinted slightly as I held May to me, my eyes having to adjust from the gloomy lights inside the warehouse.

I burst into the back seat and she slammed onto the gas as I slammed the door shut. The tires squealed loudly against the road as the earth began to shake.

Large bits of the roof began falling behind us, chasing as we raced through open entrance to once again see the miles of corn growing in all directions. Victory raced through me as I looked back at the warehouse, the garage collapsing into a pile of rubble. Then the building went up in an amazing show of flames, smoke billowing up into the sky in large black clouds.

The car swerved as the force of the explosion reached us and Natasha slammed on the breaks, stopping the car. The car came to a complete stop and my heart roared in my ears, pulse fast with adrenaline.

Natasha opened her door and got out of the car, watching the flames, and I gently set May down to join her. The air roared with energy and the already warm mid-day sun grew even warmer, corn closer to the warehouse catching the flames. Natasha met my eyes and gave a victorious smile and I could feel myself returning it as my eyes slid to the little woman lying in the back.

 _We did it._

[o]

I think this was one of the harder chapters I've written so far, so I hope you all enjoyed it. Please feel free to drop a review if you'd like, and good job to anyone finishing finals.


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